I crave time in all its duration, and I want to be myself unconditionally.

What Hells and Purgatories and Heavens I have inside of me! But who sees me do anything that disagrees with life--me, so calm and peaceful?

My boredom with everything has numbed me.

There are ships sailing to many ports, but not a single one goes where life is not painful.

And leaning out the window, enjoying the day above the varying volume of the entire city, only one thought swells my soul – the intimate will to die, to finish, not to see more light over any city, not to think, not to feel, to leave behind like wrapping paper the course of the sun and the days, to rid myself, at the edge of the grand bed, as of a heavy suit, of the involuntary effort to be.

I seek and don’t find myself. I belong to chrysanthemum hours, neatly lined up in flowerpots.

Let's absurdify life, from east to west. Let us play hide-and-seek with our consciousness of living.