SOCIAL BITING-MODELS

With his hesitant, fickle footsteps as a rope-less tightrope walker, I may yet - it may seem - try to manoeuvre the pitfalls of Life in a gambled manner; right! With more or less success behind me. The massive vision of falling into gaps of appearance simultaneously terrifies, but at the same time calms, even if it does not turn off completely. Swaying on corner balls, even the drunken hangover has been there for at least 5-10 years, so that I could feel stable and firm on the constantly changing ground.

Memories of real falls nestle midway between the cogs of my brain, pregnant; the sure center of gravity, like some mutual, complicit redemption - fearful - can still have plenty to come. It's as if a certain time of day is often a porcelain cup of Cuckoo's Egg, which constantly crushes its selfish self to shreds if its predictable goals and plans cannot be fulfilled. It would be nice to wake up a little fresher from the black coffee-scented tar dawns next to the gloom of the mornings.

"Before me, my mirage-shaky uncertainty hesitantly stops and questions me: , Well, old man! Go ahead! Come on and on! Existence does not stop!" - the secret little man holds a crooked mirror in front of you deep inside. In the chronological calculated time of Time, which can be called external, it would be good to get to know the one-Someone who really honestly and really cares who I was-am-will be!

In the humano-civilizational space connected by double knots as sugar vapor, even the parallel Euclidean lines break up or are just curve-deficient. Ordear's indifference is already straining in everything: during the spitting junk of the tabloid media, just like in the slang ugly speech of the barely 5-year-old boy next door, and added to that are the neoconformisms of the jerk who represent absolute adulthood...