Surrounded with all conveniences. Not being short of anything. Have no complaints. It’s just hard to breathe. Have no health problems. But it’s hard. No. Don’t need a doctor. He can’t help. Who can? The starry sky. The scope for the dry soul. I’m envious of the sky. It’s so imposing , so beautiful. It presses yet lets you feel free. I envy. Anything pales before you. Share your grandeur with me, don’t be so stingy. Let me surpass them. Give me the opportunity to laugh at the world beneath. At the fragility of theirs. At predictability of theirs. Hm? I’m the same as they are? I don’t deny. The same nonentity, the same meanness. We don’t differ at all. The same virtue, the same sins. And tears. And you. What about you? You’re everywhere. Disgusting and delightful to see. I would admire for ever. But I have to drop my eyes. I have to close my eyes. Why. Why? Why should I know, which questions I’m eager to find answers to? I can just repeat: why? That’s all. Don’t know what I wanted to ask about. Don’t know anything. That’s why it’s hard to breathe. Have you felt anything? Neither have I.
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