O slavnosti a hostech (A Report on the Party and Guests)

A group of freespirited observant individuals head out to relax unassuming, their picnic presenting a wide host of delectable goods, the conversation light yet piqued and thought provoking, friendship electrifying as time saunters on.

An important figure is celebrating a marriage in the same embowered locale, and for a while lets them rest undisturbed, before deciding to bluntly interrupt them.

They have no authority throughout the land and there's no one they can call to complain, since the authorities are causing the disturbance, for shits and giggles, or so it seems.

Lines are drawn in the pasteurized sanctuary which cannot be freely crossed, as a goon exercises lavish contempt, and asks questions with no apparent purpose.

Rebellion defies him and attempts to depart only to be challenged head on and resolutely, as others seek peaceful relations, and their captors slowly lose interest.

But then the figure makes an appearance and offers sympathetic glad hands at first, inviting them to take part in the festivities, which are about to get under way.

Some see opportunity knocking and their mild-manners are quickly rewarded, with dialogue and coveted seats, first hand insights into the ruling party.

But one of them secretly resents his cherished freedoms being taken away, and disappears when no one is watching, to the dismay of his newfound liege.

A political hallucination allegorically attired interrogates freedom within stark constraints, as O slavnosti a hostech (A Report on the Party and Guests) discerns eruditely, and characters adopt instinctual remonstrance.

Or sycophancy, or just plain curiosity, the situation tempts what's out of the ordinary, but only after order's established, and initial taunts are dressed up bemused.

How to best proceed can depend upon manifold factors, and trying to clarify which set you've encountered can unsettle 'til patterns accrue.

Like any job interview their caught unaware, yet hoping to make a good impression, displaying their wits and applicable abilities, with lively caution and cheerful goodwill.

But the allegory extends beyond work and independent thought will not be tolerated.

No passing by unnoticed.

Every movement a stockpiled brand.

Nice, anyways, when there's freedom to be had in the evening, and relativistic wonder romanticizes life.

How leading figures lose sight of this at times I'll never know, apart from COVID-19 measures, even if they must lay down the law.

Collective working days, individualistic nights, perhaps provide a working balance.

Constant adherence to everything disenchants so much endeavour.