mala fama

we create celebrities

and hit them hard with our

endless love for a night

and endless hate for a day

because we are not capable of loving people

for what they can create

for what they are as a whole

unrelated to us.

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Mittwoch

Two days of silence

One for having nothing honest to say.

And the other for the audience seeking the false.

On the third day I began to speak

for duality.

23:55

My mind has learnt to let go

meanwhile I was busy moving my way

without paying much attention

My knees hurt alongside my whole physics

But I feel the chill

I feel some equilibrium

Good night!

Four directions

Let your eyes

cut things

if they need to

Let your edges be sharp

if you need to

and roll and scroll

melt the tension inside of you

and let your hands break spaces

if they need to

Montag

It is fascinating

to watch eyes

that have been through pain

To watch how some bright rays of joy,

can turn to ashes

and still be beautiful.

school stuff again

Why do we get educated about the name of things,

before knowing what they are?

“Mathematics is the abstract science of number, quantity, and space”

It should be that first we know something, which feels geometrics, has a balance and has a consistent distance.

Then, to refer to that same knowing at first

again and again

we would need to put a name on it:

“We call this Mathematics”

statistics

“the problem with people is

that they write only 10 people

thats the thing

you have to write 100 people

if you write 100 people,

there are always 5 of them who would say something.”

Says Patrick….

happy grey suit

she never talks about it

she masks her pain with a sort of machinery portrait

maybe thats why

she is never still

even her laughing out loud is so self conscious.

before dancing

I paused her dance show in the middle

because at that very point

there was no curiosity anymore

rather self-manipulation

full moon

we hugged

talked

empathized

and had a cup of tea.

moments full of “hmm your hair smells good”

a drop of drama

and often a half hidden pinch of salty tear.

over nothing.

sweet

feminine

presence