Halfway between heaviness and conscious cracks, not only the power of action and will cracks, but also a little of the uncompromising humility; the awakened self-consciousness would need to hear the inner wave-rumble of the Soul. Outside, drunken wasps are fighting over each other's squirming prey, drilling holes in the rich, juicy career fruits, thus radically limiting the realizations of completeness reserved for simple average people. Nowadays, fewer and fewer people can understand the broken string of truthful, sincere tears, the appearance-Reality seems to fall back into itself, and the emotion is corruptible.

The constant nervousness vibrating on the irises can also increasingly infect the persistent, ineradicable suspicion, which, like glue, really functions as an adhesive, even in the breakable appearance-exhibitionism, but it would be good – at least – to kick it in earnest every now and then. Only the persistent humming, murmuring of deafness in the tiny canals of hearing ears, which are no longer really worried about the fifteen decibels, but the general lines of informers and traitors, who, like silent accomplices, give each other the openable handles on the doors of offices that are thought to be closed.

On the neon signs on the dilapidated firewall, the ashen faces of some celebrity starlets still shine brightly, though not for long, because the moment one actually meets them, the cheap, tinsel-like pedestal that once surrounded the auras of personality, raised to light years, suddenly collapses. – Now they still tolerate the presence of silent listeners, nicknamed permanent – but be careful – maybe not for that long. It is as if one would now deliberately close the iron gate of raw silence on oneself, not letting even one's closest relatives in, who have known one since one's shipwrecked childhood.