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These crutches don’t fit properly.

My life’s long overdue, and I can’t afford to pay the fines.

Why work hard when you can play soft?

Are you afraid? Of what’s to come? Of what has come? Of the next millisecond? The next? The next?

Note to self: slamming one’s head repeatedly into a wall/solid surface of some considerable thickness will not make the past disintegrate. Rather, it annihilates approximately 10 000 000 brain cells per contact, so to speak, until one is left with a shriveled walnut of a brain.

Have you ever been stuck in the centre of a Venn Diagram with a million neverending unintelligible spheres all clamouring and jostling for attention? Ypres all over again. . .

“I’ve lived out my melancholy youth. I don’t give a fuck anymore what’s behind me, or what’s ahead of me. I’m healthy. Incurably healthy. No sorrows, no regrets. No past, no future. The present is enough for me. Day by day.” – Henry Miller

August 2017
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