Anyway-road

  
  Because nowadays, a comforting, kind word is worth almost nothing. Bony habit is taking over, taking its place on the shores here. I'd rather my loving fingers were caressing and caressing the One-Whale. I can hear it well in advance. 

Half out of my calm, shaken in my peace, they are not attracted by my real person - but by the open whirlwind-title: How much do I earn? An old child is starting up, preparing in me, who must always be ordered if he is to achieve anything in life. What I secretly hoped for is becoming less and less feasible locked inside myself! - He who would still really feel and see must look long into the cage of an upturned mirror! 

For the time being, the cheap need for a protective superfluity protects me from the tearing open of wounds and the throwing of new, shrill sisere-words. I always return to my former self on a solid path, - but I also stumble. A great, throbbing barrier is spreading over my heart, and often I feel my organ valves twisted. 

Somewhere, perhaps, the distant possibility of a new beginning has slipped from me. In me grows a moping, spleen-melancholy; a bottomless well of self-devouring, no-man's-land sorrows. My fallible brainstorming efforts are often taken from my head. If some great bump of stone should come again, to crush me like a helpless Sisyphus, I shall enter upon new paths of more confident paths, and other follies I shall more worthily commit! 

Though being be as wicked and cunning as I am, I may be better to measure my adult measure by chess games, while I am still a child!