In our moments, it is not yet the iron-heavy dream that has hit the homestead like this on the approach of the holiday, but rather a kind of destroyed, permanent shipwreck, nicknamed permanent disillusionment among the ruins of a worn-out, much-destroyed present. In the leaden night after midnight, a raven-black jaguar or a panther purrs as it stalks its prey, as if Life, the eternal director, as the great, fatal mangrove press, sooner or later grinds every created soul to its liking.

In the dim light of street lights, a lost five-minute-famous Celeb-face appears; with self-help advertising strategies and new like-hunts, because recognition can no longer be guaranteed otherwise, only with manipulable, lead-seeking tools like this that are splashed everywhere. The faces that have been very familiar for twenty or thirty years, yet unknown, are covered by some mysterious, charming frosting smile, which is both a lie and a lie, and remains false forever. It may seem that the constantly thinking mind can rarely create for itself a cultured home-shelter, secure library-ports.

The one-World, now rotting to the core, is experiencing an unorganized lack of space for an uncertain future. The waist of winter digs viscerally into human tissue with its frozen tiger claws, and no matter how much it wants to, it won't let go. A sense of cold and mixed loneliness has now moved into the cocoon of insomnia. The well of life is an ever darker pile-chasm; getting out of its labyrinthine spiral lines is an increasingly self-evident impossible undertaking.

The slapping lesson just got easier; as if only those who openly lied to themselves and made more and more small-scale bargain alliances of dubious value in order to live at a high-quality, elite level or to prosper! "Nowadays, no matter how much anyone can ask for a small number of people here, if they don't have enough money, they will die!"

Now the profane, festive silence set in, and like a compromising, false, word-breaking friend, he immediately blurted out all the small-minded secrets of others; out there, the ancient, well-rehearsed tactic of wallowing is maintained based on the predictable, petty principle of "it's good to give and receive", which involuntarily trickles down to a small side benefit not only for celebrities but also for sensitive celebrity faces.

It's as if they are deliberately stripping their cheap and salable souls, bribing them towards the uncertain Tomorrows. In the eyes of the beholder - if there are any still here on earth at all - how much is a couple of kind friendly words shoved in a mean way when it costs almost nothing just a bowl of bean soup?! Unwittingly, the frail person constantly categorizes and tries to think back to the holidays of his shipwrecked childhood, when perhaps it was still good to cling to the beard of playful curiosity, knowing that he could receive a real spiritual gift.

Unfortunately, this current century will also become increasingly sickly suspicious, where all kinds of dirt and filth accumulate involuntarily and it is not possible to clean up or fix what has already been damaged from the ground up for a long time. From there you can tell that nothing is going to work, that we immediately become worried about an unlikely friend invitation, about which we knew nothing until now. There can be neither a happy, self-deprecating ending, nor catharsis, only a brainwashed mass of deliberately deafened people, whom it would be better to console and forget forever.

They will stumble into another whirlwind New Year; who's drunk, who's afraid, or maybe quite sober, and again, beyond the usual symbolically puffed-up, fireworks, or firecracker slogans, there isn't and can't really be grasped at the tattered intentions of human sympathies!

Now we have to live more and more in the age of Caliban, where everyone deceives, cheats and robs everyone. The channels of existence close in front of our noses at an early age, while there is no one who does not fall halfway to the afterlife. Man, whether a wanderer or just an exhausted traveler, takes minutely into account the one-time limit points of his predictability, condemned to mortality.

It may be that there is no longer, nor can there be, a chance to definitively explore the innermost spaces of insight, which are hardly visible to the eye, because everywhere the superfluous appearance, the ******, manipulable interest prevails. Conscious self-destructive decay bordered on petty, childish folly; honey-glazed sugary words will soon lead to a lot of boiled bile, which tends to be accompanied by persistent nausea; out there, greedy, pitiful little worms with a penchant for fighting are robbing each other according to rules of the game that can be permanently rewritten, but can also be broken.

Now many petty Darius and Harpagon are counting their cursed treasures in heaps, and no one would ask the average person what troubles he has caused in this no man's land in the countryside?! Even the common man now carries corruption by the hand, like a weight-carrying ***-heaviness, as if deep inside he knows that dreams of luxury in paradise will never come to him. In an age where voluntary submission has become a trendy fashion, the frail man makes deals and breaks them. When locals?!

And they will be and remain the servants-mascots of eternal losers-losers who only dared to fantasize about a simpler, happier life, and have not yet intentionally sold themselves; Nowadays, there are more and more secondary side tracks for people who like to push themselves, where they can stream to their heart's content and pull the profit. In the end, the broken, often humiliated person will be a silent scream at the bottom of a lace bush...

It's like you're an increasingly shaky pillar of your own petty, pitiful ceiling; you still try to hold your uncertain future with your two palms. Do you still want to build something while, like Orpheus, you constantly look back and see if you did, thought or did everything well and carefully?! The cornerstones of the past - it is possible - can only give you yes-yes answers that you want to get wise.

You can only forget and hide under the carpet the millions of cellular instincts of permanent insecurity for shipwrecked people with the comforting, sustaining love of the One-Dear One; the conscious, deliberate fear that: you will be completely and suddenly left to yourself, just like your Alzheimer's memories or even the brain-shaped core enclosed in a walnut, may always remain with you. Now you are still looking into the aching, wolf-crying ice-blue eyes of winter, even the central heating can only barely pass through your hardened, cat-like bones. The drooping blood-red petals of your geraniums, saved from the frost and beginning to wither, are still hiding in quiet humility in the corner of your room.

- Now your accompanying instrument is the cello, which plays the sonata in G minor, but with some kind of intense, inner experience, like when the music also gets a cathartic euphoria, and you can't understand how, or how could all this have happened?! You would call upon the calmness of your immovable toes, so that it could finally accept your restless, restless soul, but you yourself know very well that it is not possible, since you still have important things to do here on this Earth, even though you only got about twenty or twenty-two years in a no-man's house. With your often petty, persistently obstinate and intrusive questions, you have already - perhaps - too much peppered under the noses of many people, who - it is true - could see you, but could not really get to know you like that! The massive, explosive temper held on the emergency brakes narrows in the cavernous depths of your soul, still whimpering.

Only the color and at most the shell, if you can see it. In the seed house, the black-brown seed is soaked and dried on the sand. He looks like an outsider wanderer, at the same time confiding in him, and at the same time even luring him in with an insidious desire.

Its insidious layering is revealed by a regrown thick layer; it always escapes from your grasping hands. It inevitably dictates and interprets the meaning of Being; it casts enticing shadows in front of you.

When the comical moment comes, you can see him slapping and deceiving his peers clinging to the branches of trees: perhaps people also beat each other up in this way, take advantage of each other. Judgment trudges towards everyone with black lead weights, just like the executioner. At the frozen, silent bottom of slimy dreams, everyone can already guess that the rightly dreamed proud present is just a lie that started as a rumination!

The innocent gaze is shocked by the fact that greedy worms, gnawing on the flesh of juicy, southern fruits, have stealthily invaded the farm like silt submerged in mud. And that the well-deservedly praised exotic looks merely pretended to play both flirtation and the intentionally orphaned true love.

The scorned and destroyed revenge shines in Dúlt's eyes, that he was led and deliberately betrayed the emotion of the immortal Allness.

The loyal, truth-telling mirror of the eyes, when did your gal become a traitor?! This current money-hungry, misusing the World's victims every day. And while the seed can feel comfortable inside its seed house - trampled by the harsh outside world every day, it makes use of its defenseless tugging puppets!

We should now tighten the gauntlet of marcona, thundering courage. All of us, like the blindfolded blind, are deliberately stuck in the gaping gloom.

Who would work in the pissy dawn of day, can't the unfortunate - God forbid - reach the meagre farthing for a pittance. Treading, among crawling roots, among underworldly terrors. On us every petty, telltale movement is now tightened.

And so the community called civilized, sluggishly dull and stagnant. Our lives, if we hang in the swamp of indifference in the air of tesped uncertainty as unworthy victims, hanging silently until the next tweaked relief.

Yet we feel our yarrow-life bliss among the hidden career beds, camouflaged ceda-romantics - making us Ariadne's thread of Existence the thudding beats of our hesitant hearts.

The greed for money demands our clarity, ever more violently. We might as well dream the American dream if we could - let us not yet stake our only life on these coveted, pink syrupy, temporary dreams.

It is not good for something to be right or final merely for material gain. Above the sinking souls there must be a winged angel to redeem and protect the light that shines with fragmentary light.

We do not deliberately ask for spikes of power that can be hurled at us. Let the gains of treachery be left to those for whom everything and everyone was but a petty plaything, and who are now all sons and servants of No Man! In defence of the feared Existence, it would be well to look within ourselves one last time!

Empathy-tolerance within ourselves. Nice speech nobly subversive sermons are all too little for the graffiti preachers of this century. Our days are swarming, like the million-year-old volcano that slumbers for the last time before eruptions, and while party queens flash their drunken self-consciousness in the latest fashions - the glorious company of lobbyists misses out on winning bids: the present gallant, helpless world can only hurt and gripe - tabloid media broadcasting sensationalist deceptions, spouting and screaming brainwashed propaganda.

But it is in vain to make education impossible when self-educated people have survived. A million times more conquering stubbornness, protesting resistance, than shrunken submission. An age of wrangling litigation rather than false submission. No longer to bow and scrape to Rolex-watching nobodies or kiss *** in front of canary-voiced titters.

We must oppose this inglorious, grotesque century, which daily tramples on prudent common sense: no need to blink at it, nor is it inglorious. From now on, it is no longer the insidious hypocrisy, the merciless chess-hazard game of points - in the depths of our souls, it is not only the yoked, fake slogans that make us universally say no to the boorish styles of judgmental morality.

Intellectual ideas should be used to educate the true heroes of the Age to become European gentlemen, with thoughtful responsibility and not with protection. If only we could have time to regard the eccentric, the blind, the lame as human, peace would be restored to our troubled hearts!