INNOCENT OFFICERS

I often think of myself as weakening prey. Who can be struck at any moment, unexpectedly and surreptitiously. Sophisticated cruelties, disguised insidiousness My secrets now lurking everywhere infect. Our life above the surface is often more fragmented and subterranean, like the sordid little lives of worms and creepers. 

It is as if every action were a predictable, grotesque mirror, which, in its crystal shards, jealously guards the unadulterated morality and the Self. - In the sly eyes of wild beasts, the prey instinct has cast flaming rays and has already penetrated into the deep layers of consciousness where few can walk. 

So that the unattainable infinite can finally be realised: everyone is already making memories of the past, of what a Lego or a puzzle toy can hold. An objective witness to fragmentary truths. With honesty, it is less and less often possible for someone who feels he has given up. 

Through the inexorable appendages of Life, Death and the break-up of love are the hardest! Inextricable shadows flicker over everyone's head, and yet those who are the unhappiest survivors of this great whole are those who have-never-lived but suffer the stages of Existence. In that moment, in lustful career rings, the plan is born: "Who can fight more?" - they sell something always immortal, something special.

As a wanderer of crossroads, the wandering, long-suffering human heart can endure much. What is the point of always looking at each other's fangs? - It's too late, I fear, to recall the footprints of moments gone by. We have become pathetic in our credulity. We remain innocent and pure!