You have decided: you cannot forgive anyone, because it is hardly possible to change anything anymore. You can *****, blindly, hesitantly count on one or two of your old friends and acquaintances, hoping to help you on the path of your pathetic, shipwrecked life, which – it seems – you must walk alone for good. Often you yourself are more like that, held back by conscious fear, a petty spasm of no-man's-land terror, wondering what might still await you among the wolf traps of calculating, compromising everyday life, in the company of people who are no longer even remotely interested in your fate, life, or dreams.

Soul-guts crawl out of the depths of your soul at night; your organs increasingly obey your instincts and your common sense is responsible for them alone. It would be better to escape, perhaps to the sandy, palm-tree beach of another world, where joy, harmony, and carefreeness could welcome you instead of the robot-yoke worries of everyday life. – Now you often feel deep in your soul that you have bet everything on a single well-calculated ***** deck of cards, hoping that the blind luck of the cards would favor you.

All the worries and crosses of forty years of vileness that have deliberately persisted and accumulated in you evaporate, infecting its victims like some envious poison-elixir. You could not accept the slaps of life, the somersault rules that you believed were unbreakable, it would have been good to fit keys into a thousand anonymous, rusting locks, to make the redemptive liberation openable. From your confused nightmares – it would be good to trust – that you will find your way home safely through the One-Someone!