No leaves have gone, no river has flowed, no fate has been with you.

No heart blossomed, no sky cried,
no eyes lay within us sweetly

I want to create something again – because creating something actually means: to step up to others and be seen by them.

I actually want people who are torn apart. For whom every step too much into people’s eyes is souring doom. Who can’t do it. Because I can’t.

So much of personal fortune is a societal one.

And it then also becomes clear why it is a falling prey that happens.

I am lonely. Have I said that already?