Outstretched bird wings are cherished by the bars of a wire fence; we wonder to ourselves: where should we go from here to be a little better off?! To be finally free from the shackles of a dull, difficult everyday life?! The possible opportunities - a small consolation - now only provide measurable, well-deserved laurels for the few chosen ones. We ourselves are obstacles on the petty, crooked donkey ladder of self-assertion, because the average person cannot decide by what yardsticks the value of even real manual labor is measured, and because our own limitations have long been torn and torn apart again.
As if everywhere, inquisitive, soul-seeking eyes were watching in the digital space, perhaps just like among the grains of sand of Time, whose tormented passing we feel in our old bones; it surrounds people mercilessly, almost like an interrogator, the indecipherable cause-and-effect relationship is merciless, according to which: was it better to work thirty-six hours a day sweating, breaking stones, mixing asphalt, tar, and mate for less than someone who pushes paper ***** to their heart's content in the depths of air-conditioned, cool mouse-hole rooms, and for more?!
The intentionally endless spirals of branches and detours seem to be all the same age as the invisible Universe from which they were taken; man, like a shipwrecked Robinson swinging on a driftwood, would still like to cling to the shoreless tomorrows, although he feels that the chances are getting smaller and smaller!
