Assange Dancing

I saw Assange dancing in the Ikon gallery

in a windowless cubbyhole of a neo-gothic tower

tucked away from wide white spaces where young people with clipboards drifted gracefully

between exhibits to corner then interrogate visitors about their engagement with

contemporary art

there was no sound

my reaction

profound

he moved

in solitude

on a loop in a Reykjavik nightclub

from 2011

found art: French filmmaker Clément Cogitore endows the dance with the quality of a ritual

trance: that of a man casting out his demons

I’m not sure

but mesmerised by the hyperreal

I commit

the digital dance

to memory