Donkey generations

  
This world no longer exists and is no longer being created in the way that the working man or the exiled outcast might expect it to be. There are, of course, enlightened nouveau riche and strumpet-barons, canary-peasants in cages - but the warm security of employment can no longer permeate the whole.

The young teenagers are no longer nesters either - but integral participants in bacchanalia of binge-drinking, drunken bacchanalia. Like a fearsome, raucous herd, the enduring congregations of wolf-eyed brutes and louts stampede through the ruins of Nineveh's deserted cities like an idiotic mob.

Tomorrow is not exactly an idyllic, dreamy scene of luxury. Common sense and creative, performance-mindedness wither away, perhaps for nothing!

Corrupters and corrupted alike are the alienated and the willful mouth-breathers, from whom the defenceless child is terrified, from whom culture trembles. The idyll, the romance, if there was any, we have either long since outgrown, or have easily forgotten. A sycophantic society of leech-hearted snitches and sycophantic ass-kissers offer flirtatious compensation, while the really fat pay transfers are made by bogus card sharks.

Either way, the concise, intimate spirit of refuge has long since vanished from the hangman's Time. The next generation of donkeys can at best be extras before they take the stage for good. A mixture of well-developed false instincts, distrustful doubts, big-smoked promises and old-fashioned speeches will soon be buried.

Scraggy, scrawny Raskolnikovs and the dowdy Bováryns walk the streets with delusional obsessions, clinging to the hope that tomorrow will bring a better fate for their shipwrecked fate. No one has yet escaped the disturbing fate imposed on us, who could have drunk freely. - They may live, but this time they also torment the vegetating Future. With a mysterious threat, possible mercy and happiness should be won!