When the superficial wearies me, it wearies me so much that I need an abyss in order to rest.
I keep my hands empty for the sake of what I have had in them.
My final belief is suffering. And I begin to believe that I do not suffer.
They will say you are on the wrong road, if it is your own.
Following straight lines shortens distances, and also life.
What words say does not last. The words last. Because words are always the same, and what they say is never the same.