WHISPERING, CALLING VOICES

Be careful now: the secret forgiveness hidden in the rings of your years is still lurking there for the time being. The stigma-wounded heart-petal with holes could not yet be tamed, so that the immeasurable, millstone pains could be completely erased and forgotten! Stains of shame believed to be mistakes are now indelible from your soul; as if you were getting dirtier and dirtier from the inside, unscratchable tick-filth.

Your fingerprint is no longer petted, it is cherished by a caressing angelic hand. - It would be nice to consciously wait somewhere, for Someone; to fall in on themselves on the crest of flexible waves, like a Galapagos tortoise laying eggs, which even at the age of one hundred and ten is a model creation of health. Golgotha's tiny donkey ladders of Heaven and Hell - be careful - you can experience them here on Earth, not just on the other side...

- It would have been nice to cling to the uncertain, deliberate hope, of which they gave less and less each time. It would be nice to watch it in my lap, staring at the setting blood-red sun as it sacrifices its Cyclops eyeballs into the sea. You can't know it anymore, you can't even know the black-listed nicknames of those who danced spikes and pains your way so that you too could get hurt a lot.

- Among the hypocritical shackles of impenetrable lies, it becomes more and more difficult not only to survive, but to thrive in the filth of everyday life. The scars of Reality seem to lash out at you like wounds from everywhere; you could finally understand! From the distance of the farewell, it can be difficult to piece together the breakups and Morse codes of fateful tragedies in a dignified manner. Anyone who completes an extended Odyssey is waiting to find his home, and he has a long way to go to find himself.