I Work Only With Lost And Founds.

Do You Ever Suddenly Find It Strange To Be Yourself?

It Is Because I Dove Into The Abyss That I Am Beginning To Love The Abyss I Am Made Of.

No It Is Not Easy To Write. It Is As Hard As Breaking Rocks. Sparks And Splinters Fly Like Shattered Steel.

Things Were Somehow So Good That They Were In Danger Of Becoming Very Bad Because What Is Fully Mature Is Very Close To Rotting

And Now -- Now It Only Remains For Me To Light A Cigarette And Go Home. Dear God, Only Now Am I Remembering That People Die. Does That Include Me? Don't Forget, In The Meantime, That This Is The Season For Strawberries. Yes.