
A last reflection in the window
of my voluntary cell
because only the darkness outside
is what made me see
inside

A last reflection in the window
of my voluntary cell
because only the darkness outside
is what made me see
inside

Halfway our road trip
the sun started shining
and the marks on our window
reminded us

I see less of what you are looking at
but I see more of you
and where you stand

I have to concentrate
not on all that is coming towards
but on the surface
that wants to dissappear

To be honest
I only see what's in the distance
but not even that good

The sunset close to home
disappears with the day
forgetting the distance
traveled in between
the last time I saw you

Driving to the north again
this time not to stand still and wait
alone
but to collect

297 Do not wish to see prematurely. -As long as we are experiencing something, we must give ourselves over to the experience and close our eyes, and thus, while still in it, not make ourselves already the observer of it. That would, of course, disturb our good digestion of the experience; instead of a bit of wisdom, we would take away a bit of indigestion.

I see the tension
especially where it is close to us

I sometimes look down
and get dizzy
from my stance

I know there is one big reason why you don't change
your viewpoint
but what if I start loosening
your reasons

It is easy to see what you miss
not where you lost it

I wish I could open every door
so I could leave my mark behind

2 What I relate is the history of the next two centuries. I describe what is coming, what can no longer come differently: the advent of nihilism. This history can be related even now; for necessity itself is at work here. This future speaks even now in a hundred signs, this destiny announces itself everywhere; for this music of the future all ears are cocked even now. For some time now, our whole European culture has been moving as toward a catastrophe, with a tortured tension that is growing from decade to decade: restlessly, violently, headlong, like a river that wants to reach the end, that no longer reflects, that is afraid to reflect.

From above
work seems easy

A collection of wooden planks
nails and work
the ingredients written down
a long past ago
still we use it
we are hardly changed