THEY WANT TO BE BLIND!

Do they want to remain blind who have been relegated to this tiny, tiny island of a cupcake country as Robinsons?! And the hundred-colored, creative mother earth: the disgraced larder of earthly plenty, the opportunity once spoken of by the European spirit, and blessed or cursed, if the poet lived, in changing, man-trying ages.

No one wants to see the world-blinding pain of children-mothers, the incubator-scream of babies, the exotic-babooning ceda-glance of lovers, or the sincere love of a host as a friend, the bread-hungry revenge-rage of joblessness: do they want to remain blind forever?!

When the daily food that satisfies their hunger has become an astronomical privilege, and when they are knee-deep in muddy, massive mud in fine, expensive shoes and needle-heeled mannequin feet! And when little kings in their gaiety found new dumps, gaping mines, from which the treasure flows out of the pockets of the leaky pockets. If the lady calls the pledge of allegiance on the lips of her lover's lover a confusion of Babel, and demands a life of luxury instead - it is feared - it is too late for forgiving humility. Do they want to sink into the abyss of the wretched?!

Disappointing, grotesque indifference! Peaceful active weekdays besieged by uncertainty; moments of thickened confidence, already dangling on shaky rope-ties. You are a strange and strange-souled fool now, Man: at least be an all-seeing Heresias, who understands the ugly weight of real things, and cannot be influenced by slug-lickers, if he does not hesitate to act! He who would have it otherwise must endure for a thousand years!