2011. február 15., kedd
Gras - Wassermann
The Infinite Process of Absorbing
The monotonous noise of bypassing cars drags me away from sleep and into another day. Time doesn't exist, there are just processes and my whole life seems to be tied to an infinite process like the neverending looping sound of the cars outside my small apartment. I open the door, however unable to open the walls of isolation that seperate me from mankind.
Sitting down beside the road, I feel the wet grass with my fingers. I peel off some leaves and gaze at them with my eyes. Drops seep down silently into nowhere where they melt with my feelings.
Like sitting in a diving belt I float through the strange but yet self-created environment of my own subconsciousness, greedily absorbing images and sentiments I had forgotten and repressed for such a long time. My own existence seems to dissolve and drift away like dust in the wind, far beyond the walls of fear and melancholia.
A delightful tickling surrounds my head and muffles my body - it's grass.