DISTANCES IN SPACE AND TIME

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 successes and recognition are of little use if one always has to kiss up to others to achieve them. Because now, like the two pans of a scale, worthless buffoons and marked suckers force themselves into inferior roles, because wild, lonely faces float like tadpoles in the current indifferent, unpredictable turmoil. 

Perhaps a person can move in only one way, like a stone or a mudslide; but the thicket of obsessive preaching also chains them down, not only by the heavy Sisyphean gravity of everyday life, forcing them to drag their own shadows here on earth, because we must live in the shaggy no-man's-land of Executioner Times, where petty and pathetic victories bathe the lords in intoxication, until sooner or later one of their heads falls into the dust for good. No amount of scheming or talkative cunning can help here;  everyone lives out their compromising fate sooner or later, but even the accomplices, the ambitious betrayers - perhaps - become miserable victims and fall beneath the earth's surface. Blinking moles in underground passages know more about the rules of true survival than many modern digital nomads.

Many people are now setting off, staggering like sleepwalkers who cannot yet guess where their journey will take them; shadows swaying in the sleety rain may sooner or later trample through the waves of everyday life, if only they knew the right safe methods and rules of the game, which perhaps no one has yet been disappointed by.