Everyday utility bills, will contracts ready to wander, ready to be torn apart in public: so that's all that could be left of you, you vile, human-smelling Life?! Because - unfortunately in most cases -, without exception, most people forget to pay and redeem the necessary attorney's fees, which makes the notary in question just go headlong into solid walls again.
The magical blue suitcase remained in the ward for some reason, where it was regularly stolen from - what could have been considered a saleable asset. A juicy, disgusting fried chicken leg garnished with mayonnaise potato salad, grandma's beloved honey jerboa, which only she could understand. The top secret files of a secret period document, which still wanted to faithfully testify to historical times in a diary.
The violin keys fluttering on the yellowed Beethoven-like sheet music spoke of cryptic, real music... Once we had to go to a formalin-smelling fortune teller who - I think - in exchange for fruitful profit predicted what might await us on the donkey's doorstep of the 21st century, although only half, because when she reached us, it seemed as if she had already reduced the partial contribution offered to her initially;
"You too will end up as cursed ones!" They will see!" - his preaching-judging words sputtered from his lips. - Perhaps once in a hundred years the sacred holiday-solitude of the spleen-consciousness will pass through the supposedly solid bones of our skulls with a sparkling, crystal-clear light, because our consumed days are already living off of us somewhere.
In the welded shaft-cavity, the bloodless paperclip would still hold together the caesarean sections of the aborted Being, and not just the cracks; because the routine of everyday life is repeated again and again, with the petty tricks of mask-gestures. In the unnoticed ecstasy, the desire to wrestle with the conscious impossible, as a kind of still possible alternative, strains against the uncertain Present.
Nov 30, 2025
Nov 30, 2025 at 2:21 AM UTC
Everyday utility bills, will contracts ready to wander, ready to be torn apart in public: so that's all that could be left of you, you vile, human-smelling Life?! Because - unfortunately in most cases -, without exception, most people forget to pay and redeem the necessary attorney's fees, which makes the notary in question just go headlong into solid walls again.
The magical blue suitcase remained in the ward for some reason, where it was regularly stolen from - what could have been considered a saleable asset. A juicy, disgusting fried chicken leg garnished with mayonnaise potato salad, grandma's beloved honey jerboa, which only she could understand. The top secret files of a secret period document, which still wanted to faithfully testify to historical times in a diary.
The violin keys fluttering on the yellowed Beethoven-like sheet music spoke of cryptic, real music... Once we had to go to a formalin-smelling fortune teller who - I think - in exchange for fruitful profit predicted what might await us on the donkey's doorstep of the 21st century, although only half, because when she reached us, it seemed as if she had already reduced the partial contribution offered to her initially;
"You too will end up as cursed ones!" They will see!" - his preaching-judging words sputtered from his lips. - Perhaps once in a hundred years the sacred holiday-solitude of the spleen-consciousness will pass through the supposedly solid bones of our skulls with a sparkling, crystal-clear light, because our consumed days are already living off of us somewhere.
In the welded shaft-cavity, the bloodless paperclip would still hold together the caesarean sections of the aborted Being, and not just the cracks; because the routine of everyday life is repeated again and again, with the petty tricks of mask-gestures. In the unnoticed ecstasy, the desire to wrestle with the conscious impossible, as a kind of still possible alternative, strains against the uncertain Present.
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