REBELS BURNING FROM WITHIN

Learning from the example of unlucky travelers, I have never tried to enter those cities whose walls are staring at each other, whose fences are a multitude of words impaled next to each other. I never wanted to look, hiding behind the eyes, in such a way that the law of double trust did not exist between the contracting parties as equals. I always came on the waves of a baby's cooing, and I staggered like a demented person who can only rarely be understood. My years are rotting in the sap-smelling loneliness. Fat Stroman ponds are Greek for donkey's ladder-On the thrones of lives that take root.

Why is it that we want something big every moment? Alas, our dreams are turned into words with a good ringing sound by one or two lurking and scrambling positions! Twenty-first century you roaring twenty-first century.

The afternoon is already standing above me with extended wings. Time flows through me like a cool stream, while I wonder from among the nodding shadows, looking at Being as if pressed, like a rusty, worn-out millstone. What will happen to me if, after nights of headache, I cannot enter the door that has always welcomed me as home? What will happen if the people I could count on turn their backs on me in an unexpected, distorted and grotesque way and break my original childhood rules that have worked until now?!