We Walk In Circles, So Limited By

I Usually Take A Walk After Breakfast, Write For Three Hours, Have Lunch And Read In The Afternoon. Demons Don’t Like Fresh Air - They Prefer It If You Stay In Bed With Cold Feet; For A Person Who Is As Chaotic As Me, Who Struggles To Be In Control, It Is An Absolute Necessity To Follow These Rules And Routines. If I Let Myself Go, Nothing Will Get Done.

There Are Moments When I Can Wander Through My Childhood's Landscape, Through Rooms Long Ago, Remember How They Were Furnished, Where The Pictures Hung On The Walls, The Way The Light Fell. It's Like A Film - Little Scraps Of A Film, Which I Set Running And Which I Can Reconstruct To The Last Detail - Except Their Smell.

Occasionally I Sense An Insane Wail Deep Down In The Pit, The Echo Alone Reaching Me, Striking Without Warning, A Child Weeping Uninhibitedly, Imprisoned Forever.

Self-portraiture Is Something One Should Never Get Involved In, Since It Is Wrong To Lie Even Though One Endeavours To Tell The Truth.

Then I Felt That Every Inflection Of My Voice, Every Word In My Mouth, Was A Lie, A Play Whose Sole Purpose Was To Cover Emptiness And Boredom. There Was Only One Way I Could Avoid A State Of Despair And A Breakdown. To Be Silent. And To Reach Behind The Silence For Clarity Or At Least Try To Collect The Resources That Might Still Be Available To Me.