Notes scatter, flung high above the heads of the celebrant, come falling down like boozed butterflies in disordered clusters to the unclean floor, gradually being overrun by notes in disarray. The more affluent hurl bundles at willing shoulders, some other bundles are thrust into welcoming arms by photo-savvy gifters
The long arm of the law looks on, powerless, the law has been long settled, sorted, and so now is broken, breakable
The space knows no balance, this place knows no balance, peopled by hollow souls with no restraint, who know no restraints, know and respect no limits, the leash on the impunity of the rich has no limits, so we ball on, big ballers kicking restraint, morality, conscience, common sense further down the slippery road of riot, ruin, and rot.
Reflections 