I'm tired of you, chaos of the living world--

What was my crime in another life, as in this life my crime is sorrow

Time passed, turning everything to ice.Under the ice, the future stirred.If you fell into it, you died.It was a timeof waiting, of suspended action.I lived in the present, which wasthat part of the future you could see.The past floated above my head,like the sun and moon, visible but never reachable.It was a timegoverned by contradictions, as inI felt nothing andI was afraid.

this, this is the meaning of "a fortunate life": it means to exist in the present.

You grew up, you were struck by lightning.When you opened your eyes, you were wired forever to your true love.It only happened once. Then you were taken care of,your story was finished.

In the silence of consciousness I asked myself:why did I reject my life? And I answerDie Erde überwältigt mich:the earth defeats me.

No one's despair is like my despair--

it is a bitter thing to be the disposable animal, a bitter thing.

Go ahead: say what you're thinking. The gardenis not the real world. Machines are the real world.