THREE-TRIANGLES

  
Just like the industrious coupe in a bazaar of give-and-take goods, objects z people-to-people social, simplified relationships are driven by interest and profit. Every momentary prosperity is a false hallucination. Morals, noble character, helpful intentions are dwindling - the roots of centuries-old trees are shrinking, because there is always a risky deal with a richer profit that takes away the livability or the oxygenated, cleaner air of the space.

Only the ingenious can win out of backward-looking compulsions. Bargainers, powerful people, suspect their compromising decisions to be flawless. Its hair-root roots in our flesh are being chewed up faster and faster by the decomposing dross. Behind tired hopes, can honest truth still prevail?!

The échoes of purification are becoming increasingly difficult to implement. We have the worms of alamus inside us, while the doves of loyalty drop on all alike. Only a few take advantage of the triple sting. When they should speak, when they should act, they bury their heads in the sand like ostriches, and listen with a shaken, wry silence. The worm-feathers of tiny, stray souls are barely visible in the now camouflaged larval-retreat multitudes.

No one wants to be just like themselves anymore. Pygmalion, too, has created his own statue, not knowing enough of his own frailties. Ladies registered on online dating sites seem to be cold-blooded judges. They don't despise Mercedes or Porsches, - but many are at war with simple Skodas.

Behind the childish naivety of interrogators and interrogated, cunning manipulations lie in wait. Even friendship turns to strawberries. Mature human pairings are submerged in a sordid cynicism, murderous irony reduces courtship to a degraded communication!