WILLFUL BLINDNESS

We need to squeeze the gauntlet of grim, rattling bravery. All of us, like blind people with blinders, are deliberately stuck in the gaping gloom.

At the dawn of the days of wink, who would work, he could not be unlucky – God-given he could not reach the meager living for hunger wages. Groping, groping roots, Downworlders. Every small, revealing gesture is tiring on us.

It is also a community called civilized. Our life, if in the air of uncertainty stagnate in the swamp of indifference, we hang as unworthy victims in silence until the next targeted relief.

Yet among the hidden career aspirations, hidden Doxy-romances we can feel our flourishing prosperity-Ariadne's thread is prepared for us by the pounding beats of our hesitant hearts.

The greed for money demands our clairvoyance ever and ever more violently. We could dream an American dream, if we could have the desired, pink syrupy, temporary dreams, we'd rather not have one more life.

It is not good for something to be correct or final merely for financial gain. Above the sinking Souls, A Winged Angel is absolutely necessary, who redeems and protects the light, which shines with a fraction of hope.

We deliberately do not ask for performance spikes that can be incited to us. Let the profits of treason rest with those to whom all and all could be small-time toys, and for this reason all are no man's sons and servants! In order to protect our feared existence, it would be nice to look at ourselves for the last time!