CEMENT-GLASSES, GESTURE ISLANDS

 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 walls?! 

Your conditions are hardly known anymore; a permanent renunciation authenticates and qualifies the restrained behavior that could be considered later emasculation. The cement of shrinking, stingy-smelling glances, which have petrified early, since cultivated exhibitionism is now the trendy chic. 

As if in an increasingly stricter frame of silence, only a few honest whispers could be heard, so that others would not accidentally hear them, since then the majority could be exposed at any time. The unfathomable distance of abandoned or recently traveled paths still calls back its victims; the realism of the given imagination is more monophonic than polyphonic. 

Every season that begins brings together its own peculiar nests. Today, many people are like the usurer to whom they always owe and who left no will. Stuck on the border between the Beginning and the End, a cautious fate can be the sure recognition: you are alone! Curiosity combined with patience watches locked crypt faces: what can the majority think?! Because crying and smiling can only build an entire wall of faces at once. 

It is a bigger problem if, instead of a given word of honor, surprisingly many people return home empty-handed. Lying, uninhabited islands of gestures roam around at will using manipulative methods as long as they can. As if every person preserves the bad, petty wandering rages of a failed relationship.