"(...) For he saw that life liv'd upon death:
The Ox in the slaughter house moans,
The Dog at the wintry door;
And he wept & he called it Pity,
And his tears flowed down on the winds. (...)"
excerpt for "The first book of Urizen" by William Blake

I don't know how to put in words what it is the "1st dance of Urizen". Although I know it is amazing to read Valter Hugo Mãe's books. Nowadays to call for sensibility is to be punk. And Valter is a punk. So, to him and to all the neo-romantics I dedicate this dance.