WALK ON THE THREADS OF INTENTIONS

 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. 

The law of open doors cannot apply to the simple man. Perhaps it would be better if he finally said goodbye to the misunderstood moods of reckoning, to the series of parentheses of the consequences that have occurred, which seem to have always hinted at some inner essence. He must carry the burdens of resignation alone, like Sisyphus, without ceasing. In the losses that can be said to be permanent, the selfish possessor sacrifices his peace of mind every day, because he has become a prisoner of the intangible in a person; moments of reckoning and manipulations for actions are now commonplace. 

Sometimes, even pitiful cowardice must be denied with a deliberate will, if we fear the uncertain outcome. Instead of facing each other, perhaps turning away would be better. They do not even offer the possibility of approachable resignations - to anyone these days. Because now, permanent lack of character is reaping its laurels, the disgraced paradise of the intrusive, the initiated evaders of the laws even chirping among themselves their individual rules of the game. Every arrival is also a reckoning with life: halfway between survival and exclusion. 

The uncertainty of the hows and whys - they hardly notice it - permanently bribes and infects its naive and unsuspecting victims. Their spoiled everyday lives are stuck between uncertainty and the unexpected. The Executioner's Time already suspends the weight of their hopeful expectations in every case, because it also preserves the recurring excuses in itself.