A letter to Glitter

There are people whose presence announces itself even before they speak — in your case, Glitter, unfortunately it is not because of the shine your name suggests, but due to a breath that seems to carry echoes of poorly digested decisions and even worse intentions. You move among others like a drawing-room strategist, the kind who confuses manipulation with intelligence. You observe, calculate, distort… and smile as if no one notices. But they do — many simply choose silence over the exhaustion of dealing with this constant performance. And, of course, there is the intimidation factor. Not only in your expansive posture, but in the way you occupy space — physical and social — as if that alone were an argument. As though the sheer volume of your presence could replace a lack of legitimacy. Some give in, not because they agree, but because it is easier than confronting the spectacle. In the end, what remains is a curious aura: someone who believes they are leading everyone around them, when in reality, they are slowly pushing each one further away. Soon you will be alone. Just you and that four-month-old piece of chicken stuck between your teeth.