http://slow.writerscafe.org/Tasi83 The original writings of author Tasi83 en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1779684693 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15  The fear of space and the claustrophobia that promised to be permanent seem to meet reality immediately; the stretch of road that started as a straightening towards the middle of life becomes increasingly difficult and more neck-breaking, from the loosened shackles they could try in vain to es.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3135067/  The world now looks as if it were a single, transparent, unbreakable curtain, which is increasingly difficult to peek through; a person is pulled on a leash by fame, a dishonest career desire, manipulations, a whole series of compromises, and he can forgive himself less and less. Because .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3134517/  It would be good to remain stuck outside of everything as long as possible; to sit outside of all endeavors on a cotton candy cloud or on a branch. Because everything is already hurting the brain, the ears, our inner instinct cells that have begun to dull, the crescents of ashamed nails on the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3134345/  Density perhaps only becomes transparent on the ruins of nerve-wracking, stressful everyday life; the average person also carries Sisyphean weights, clinging to echoes that thrash in reverse. The late glow - at least for now - is financed by the languid rays of the sun. The return journey - I .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3134166/   You are dragging behind you the deliberately unfathomable weight of tomorrows; your apostate presence often mocks you or even lets you down. You have, were, and will have interest-bearing debts to the pursued Time; your petty, useless life has turned into endless stories, which - nowaday.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3133962/  I don't think that now I have no right, no truth, no faith, always and in everything. I couldn't believe that halfway between brainwashed, peanut-sized brains, every foot-sized connection could have already disappeared. I don't believe that two hearts that belong together, beating to the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3133807/  The Sisyphean, confused soul carries endless, piercing, snapping weights, perhaps it cannot even suspect it yet, but it too is maneuvered from one place to another by petty interests and pitiful promises. A silent, yawning pit-shell flows over the stubborn, wounded heart, which finally, inward.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3133708/  You look around even more than once a day at the tiny breakpoints of the deserted street corners that lie in front of your house, like black, underworldly rivers. You know very well: there is nothing moving or compassionate about your own sinking descent. A few stray ants, eager to swarm, appe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3133501/  You are constantly approaching and moving away from yourself at the same time, almost without noticing it; sometimes you frolick at will in the complex dense mud of Being, or you sneak through like a knocking ghost, unnoticed, from the is to the conscious non-existent. Perhaps even now, an inv.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3133264/  It would be good to forget the cracked shell of appearances, so that one can see with the naked eye the fake-tinny prepared, petty miracle within them; unhealthy, low-life creepers regularly weave their manipulative, self-serving spider webs on the rubble of everyday life anyway, because the d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3133074/  In the concrete-cast forest of petty suspicions, an untouched, constantly secretive, mysterious manipulative duality, which perhaps even those whose inner soul has been repeatedly infected by this vile Age and made the object of their bargains no longer trust. The massive tar layers of in.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3132925/  Sometimes it might be better if only the clicking centrifuges of conscious loneliness exist, grinding ever more loudly among the gears of our brains; behind closed doors, the accomplices, like little children ready to be curious, eavesdrop. The stars of the Universe were always missing fr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3132770/  A person is often ridiculous even to himself; when objects, connections, and perspectives have all come to rest. He surpasses one another. Where can he sink in his vulnerable orphanhood, when everyone only tempts and treats him with false promises?! He no longer comes to his senses for almost .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3132521/ Sometimes, a person involuntarily outgrows the boundaries of rationality that are believed to be stable; he grows pure swampy swamps if he does not know which way to turn. Their insidious, weedy tenacity - anyway - makes all weed-howitzers or weeds settle. Although a person could do his everyday han.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3132340/  Even though it hits you in the face - nowadays -, the simplest question-answer; you are forced to stand half-heartedly between crossroads for a long time. In periods written on untearable papers, perhaps the compulsion to conform may seem more difficult, because small-style or petty stories st.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3132125/ In the deadlands of our torments - I fear - perhaps only our own shadows are wandering lifeless, as if an invisible sense of shame or a whiplash had secretly struck us, hypocritical gestures, misleading, empty promises become palpable. There is often a smell of unnameable expectation in the air.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3131938/  It seems that all the remaining emotional trinkets have suddenly disappeared from the labyrinth of brain convolutions; empathy-tolerance, the intention to help. The person is blinded by the many sermons in disguise, the unnecessary masquerades. As if instinct and decency now let themselve.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3131736/  In a whispering silence, a person's selfish, petty personality is separated from him, just like the outer skin of an onion; because no one can know about his own life whether he can actually have a real happy ending?! Behind the prime plan faces, a more genuine childish, curious summary i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3131473/ This current vile, indifferent age - fear - perhaps no longer notes the modest, humble merits of ordinary people. Mene-Tekel fire signals have disappeared to the last detail, here an uninhabited city-island, elsewhere the universal protrusions of weed-howitzer shells can be seen on a cracked asphalt.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3131294/  The helpless, greedy knots of movements unexpectedly loop around an entire human life; perhaps even if we are not careful enough. Existence is still stuttering now, like dice in sweaty palms, a predictable series of blind luck; the pointer of moments flickers, while a decade suddenly flies ove.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3131153/  Man would now hold the uncertain Infinity between his clenched tiger teeth, gnashing his teeth; heavenly powers have not yet decided his fate, whether he will remain a plucked baby bird or an orphan Robinson Crusoe. Viper nests are now home to hissing, rubbed snakes that can be manipulate.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3131018/  The desire for self-assertion tightens like an ever-tightening coat on a person; exhibitionist, superficial movements, like the stomachs of starving dogs, quickly tear apart the star-like subspaces of minute-human Celebrities. It is as if conscious selection were immediately carried out in a s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3130771/  A watchful rot crept in the lap of the streets; the infected darkness reeked from the caves of the pitch-black night. Longing palms stretched out on bars ask for alms-money daily wages in exchange, they are interrogated daily by crouching lacks. Because even in the Soul - sooner or later - a w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3130594/ The steps of existence should also diminish at a steady pace, once one has used them; it would be nice to get out of the narrow spaces of mole tunnels and into the open near the surface. The over-secured transition is hardly felt, because there is never enough time for it. Closed satisfactions,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3130450/  Because the wear marks of the increasingly narrowing solidification of Beginnings and Ends, the ever-decaying petty movements, the petty, cheap little suspicions, as if the disappearance of mortality were an increasingly obvious fact; because if they can barely know anything about someone, it'.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3130287/  Even if the empty promise is still whispering, with a sly, sly desire, a false promise in the courtyard of outstretched handshakes or words, because meaningless, gouty wills have also been boasting in ostentatious, haughty actions. The company of Pilates who wash their hands has increased.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3129954/  Unanswered complex questions and answers wander in the human soul incessantly; conscious uncertainty is not always a helpful refuge. Even the mosaics that seem innocent - sooner or later - will only be put together. It is as if the promises, rumors, and moments that can be experienced as gifts.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3129717/  Others have long been building with a petty desire the Tower of Babel of their imported-smelling idealism, which will soon - perhaps - fall anyway; the wind brings the acrid smell of a foreign yeast mixture, if necessary, if not. In the secret labyrinths of large chemical kitchens, the elixir .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3129513/  Eternal deficiency, like a misunderstood, silent decoration, clings to a person's skin; intentions strain against each other over the chances of survival; he melancholy resigns himself to the permanent vulnerability of the expected and the unexpected, because he can hardly do anything else.&nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3129335/  One cannot rest on mere, trivial details and secrets; zeal fuels one until goal and will meet. The failure or success that promises from close quarters can turn into contradictions at any time if the planned fulfillment cannot be realized on one's side. Incomprehensible blind Lacks often bind .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3129133/  Every day, the distance between us, measurable even with the soul, seems to be getting smaller. We would move with slowed-down restraint through the heavy treadmills of Existence, lest we be permanently crushed by mere chance. Laws and human attitudes are sinking and rising at the same time, d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3128767/  Among the gears of the deliberately reduced intellect - still halfway - there may be a tiny little secret floating around; which man is still dying out on his own, although the World would constantly demand that he stay alert. There is still a long way to irreducibility. The strings of common .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3128595/  It would climb up again, while it eternally explains excuses for the necessity of action and action. It would only be two in the morning. The black veil of the crumpled night would completely envelop me, I would restlessly search for a possible way out. But the secret echoes also beckon a naus.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3128408/  In the sacred foreground of silent starbursts, the night murmurs, marches, then scurries; packs of rabid, barking dogs chase the cheese-smelling moonlight. The night street bends, as if a perilous human existence is under the weight of trials. Hidden in the pockets of a winter coat buttoned in.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3128242/  It's not a problem if you see me covered in crocodile tears; I carry the weight of my sins like a pillar, like heavy millstones. You don't have to feel sorry for me, although it would be good - of course only sometimes - for you to pull me up from the depths of the bottomless gaping pits towar.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3128091/  The iron claws of infinite Time will one day unexpectedly settle on the outskirts of the alley-smelling city, where perhaps not even the dog walks, and like a man who is languishing in a mania for pursuit, he must constantly look back to avoid being shot down. No matter how much they spin the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3127884/ Things, friends, memories, and objects drift away from us, and the only thing that matters is the growing sense of loss. There is no need to cling to motionless, seemingly unattainable eternities if there is no one with whom to share one's inner spiritual harmony. Small-minded, fleeting, cheap succe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3127677/  It would be good to let go of everything now. The unnecessary has become too loose; the shackles of memory, faces, padlocks. As if some inner intangibility were always chasing a person. It is known: human relationships, the consolations of being in love, the implications of relationships, whic.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3127536/  Like a thrown billiard ball, the city's day-long sacred chaos is thrown from street to street across the street; the chirping grandmotherly chaos of women carrying plastic bags, the howling of stray dogs, which splits the stale, musty air. While some homeless people are rummaging through smell.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3127377/  Flowing mosaics cut themselves, while the feigned, lazy indifference and hypocritical extravagance are resting more and more; who knows whether the truer captivity, imposed on man by some cunning plot, intrigue, or simply the deliberately forgotten cipher of each prisoner himself, was built of.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3127175/  Because they had all used up their arguments; they had sailed unconsciously for a long time in the moving waters of life, when aching, ambiguous doubts were deliberately turned against them. In troubled eyes, suspicious doubt struck home. Those who don't bargain couldn't even give a servant a .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3126950/  The weak man has long since tumbled out of the basket of dreams; through hissing visions, like blood vessels pulsating in a wall. Because - he would rarely admit it to himself - it would be good to finally rise above the ordinary, weak logic, to the abandoned, barren-smelling shores, beyond th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3126770/  Devils and saints who had endured both heaven and prison looked around in a little wakefulness; the soul can now - in any case -, fly away, even on mouse paths, into death flirting with redemption. Here, it seems as if all construction and grounding are now dismantling themselves, but no one i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3126609/   A wild, persistent, dull rumbling in the head, as if the average person were forced to travel through uncharted realms on untrodden paths. The landscape of childhood that had sailed away could no longer be his, because the frozen, inviting swamp world of memories unexpectedly and suddenl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3126355/  Increasingly, the muddy, vague environment, the uncertainly sliding walls can unexpectedly grow on one's head, and even suck it in; promises that have become shapeless, in the small-style nets of swirling labyrinth-spirals, like a tadpole population struggling on the bottom of the sea, because.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3126174/  From the roar of mercy, I could find a few more good friends; stray, lost dogs whine in the depths of alleys. It would be good if a guardian angel could protect me from troubles as an invisible protective vest. Vile ages, decades that have become unworthy - even so - will outlive me. Holding h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3125978/  The limping Future is almost unmarked; petty troubles and troubles, dangers swallowed up by cares, are bustling here and there with petty pleasure, because consolations gathered in distorted indifference are not sure to help a person through the pits of supposed-real difficulties. Even so, som.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3125711/  At milk-can dawns, the robot work starts up, but it does not accelerate. In the silent blind mirrors of houses, the morning still combs its golden honey hair; step by step, it seems as if everything and everyone is moving backwards and not only forwards. Because man has been forced to make dea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3125477/  I know well all the petty filth of the once Nineveh-smelling city; walls and gates have long since stopped shaking hands with me, neither arches nor rows of houses turn their faces towards me. In the early morning robot, I still trudge along like a slug, one or two articulated buses, while gos.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3125275/  We are now lulled to sleep by our helpless, insurmountable, finite Executioner-Time. You guessed it: the gruesome price of our mortality is no longer available and cannot be exchanged for anything. Because nowadays it is either a blow or a torturous arrogance that would rather trample on other.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Tasi83/3124987/