FALLS, SIGNS

Cage and silence! The infectious disease runs up and down in me, perhaps just like the useless, ragged life, with which I have only traces to do. There is a plan, a reality, a memory. It must be three in the morning. I lay frozen to a skeleton in my frozen room, and visions and wandering images rush: What Would my little, pathetic life have been like in Bali, in faraway Berzengacia? Would my beloved have nurtured me with loyalty and not merely comforted me in someone else's arms?  Sometimes everything seems so far away!

I walk the planned, manipulative ladder of life, and realize with horror that my plans and dreams still could not come true. My friends, my promises twist foolishly, leaving me ugly, ugly. I can no longer trust either The man who lied to himself or the order of the world, if it existed at all. I growl like an old man bear to my own prodigal shame. A,, what next?!"your question keeps surrounding you.

In a Dark Suburb, a tram is screaming at the uninhabited Nineveh Square; a couple of crouching dogs appear gnawing at concoctions, and while their saw-teeth growl as they approach the Gellert Hill, they are whispering to see if I can shake them off again. I was restless and would seek peace and harmony, and I cannot understand how I should survive in the face of trouble and trouble?! Already covered with hoarfrost, the yellow Yesenin-Moonlight is wetting, as if it were a ghost, which is bubbling under a smoke...