SHADOWS OF SILENT BABELS

 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 of possession and destruction is already in full swing, which only the privileged can possess, of course only and exclusively for good money.

 Like a stone at the bottom of a lake, some dilettantes are hesitantly gaping at the basic question of "what else should be done?". They would like to stand neck and neck, small and big, and crawl out of their own skins, because they can sense and let it be known: there are other ways of asserting themselves as collateral, which they have never intentionally made public. 

- Recently, many have become more comfortable with it, because they have realized that many things can hardly be tolerated otherwise. So they prefer to leave everything to the devil, as it is. Amidst waves of silent, piss-smelling struggles, when people are now greeted by closed doors and windows everywhere, they could rightly ask: "Where should they go to find a path, conviction, and assertion again?!" 

People should have known long ago: whatever they want to say or communicate, the only way is through deliberate exposure, and sooner or later they will betray themselves. Among the wild beasts that poison each other to the point of death, would a secret formula or code of survival be necessary; do trapping and entertainment force some to do evil, or did they come that way from somewhere in the first place?! 

Benevolent lies can no longer be given a basis for existence, Fate and Fatefulness hover more and more lawfully over the sown soil of the soul, as if man had trained himself to be a tightrope walker, so that he could safely survive what awaits him alone.