Day 2165, Pyotr.

Day's pictures, Poetry

There were too many

so his death was not mourned

I am so disappointed that we still live in a world where a single person can have so much power that he (it is hardly ever a she) can start a war. I don’t believe in a higher power or that there is a reason for why we are here. If you think this through, you have to conclude that we are humans living on a planet and not humans living in a country that is all just made up and has no basis in reality besides a habit we all share for a couple of hundred years.

Day 2162, alone.

Day's pictures

Iron Maiden

The Trooper (1983)


The horse, he sweats with fear, we break to run

The mighty roar of the Russian guns

And as we race towards the human wall

The screams of pain as my comrades fall

We hurdle bodies that lay on the ground

And the Russians fire another round

We get so near, yet so far away

We won’t live to fight another day


We get so close, near enough to fight

When a Russian gets me in his sights

He pulls the trigger and I feel the blow

A burst of rounds takes my horse below

And as I lay there, gazing at the sky

My body’s numb and my throat is dry

And as I lay forgotten and alone

Without a tear, I draw my parting groan

Day 2159, the end.

Day's pictures

Friedrich Nietzsche

Beyond good and evil, The religious character

49. What is amazing about the religiosity of ancient Greeks is the excessive
amount of gratitude that flows out from it: – it takes a very noble type of
person to face nature and life like this! – Later, when the rabble gained
prominence in Greece, religion became overgrown with fear as well, and
Christianity was on the horizon. –

Day 2158, colorful.

Day's pictures, Poetry
Are we not all colorful inside? You ask me.
I don’t know.
You act colorful, so maybe your right.
But are we not often black and white in our outside?
Is the black marker not the weapon of choice these days?
Maybe we are colorful inside but forgot to turn on the light.
Or we are just colorblind.
Maybe I am colorblind.
Maybe I only remember the colors, from when the world was still new to me.
A black line is certainly not as loud inside as all these colorful nuances that I remember.
But you asked about all of us, if the other is colorful inside.
I don’t know, I can’t look inside of you or the others.