DECLINE AGE COMPLAINT

Like the old marionettes that can be pulled on strings, the calculating, pitiful little chess pieces of Life; if necessary, they sell, buy, embezzle, rob, and even kill and hug people - they yawn into the blind world staggering like a lame patient with ulcerated, empty human-wreck self-consciousness.

Just like the hard-working army of tiny ants: manipulation, important interest, the most profit, and they polish each other - if necessary - in their hands, so that they can become active and useful members of a huge, bigger machine. Perhaps they no longer know what they really want from themselves or from others. Concentrated pro-repentance suffocates them daily, to which the World replies: every heart that has started to turn sour would seek comfort.

Slurring and softening words can still bring lasting reconciliation; it would be good to leave a concentric circle once and for all. "Some" are projecting a random Space-Absence on the perforated Future, on future centuries that are self-deprecating. The stage and theatrical devices of Being are also shrinking outside; the deceived Man stares pensively and cannot understand that he can exist, that sorrow-joy, wretchedness and evil already go hand in hand, while he endures and suffers the unjust injuries of one thoughtless blunder, which his descendants then rightly moan about?!

- Now the big-party is hurrying, and for a moment he hopes in disbelief that he has the right to all this; after all, he has connections and money for anything. And even though the honey-glazed words, gestures, moments are competing, the lies are growing in heaps around you, it would be nice if Man could feel who are left Truth-tellers, former news-tellers, false-prophets and bullies?!