The iden of October are a real spotlight in the maize of annual seasons when colorful leaves on trees paint a temporary collage of mindful sensations. Shadows grow instantly like dangerous signs in the circle of the year pointing on the rapid approaching dull and unscalable Autumn fogs knocking at the door of our lives. But a light-house at the far away horizon will lead safely to glorious Midwinter when a new cycle will be opened during the wild roaring seven nights – a final liberating catharsis escorting us again out of this misleading cosmic darkness to the surreal fortress of brilliant sparkling stars.
The impenetrable layers of snow acting as white shadows make this forgotten place in the dark forest the perfect place for hide and seek.
At sunrise somewhere in cool woods
Again we have to observe that megalomaniac leaders bustle about at the horizon and assure the amorphous serpents creeping over the streets that it would still be a grand creation to survive on these rails of civilization. A blotted vision attacks the alien visitor in a fever of amok: a false expectation and endless questions. So why should one still continue the decoding of the round-about in the interspace of opulent stoppers while copulating with the mimicry in legendary madness effects and all this just in order to get a further permission here in the globalized desert?
Stupid collapsing quant, because you only smell excitement behind the balloon where the mutants dehumanize riotings, but the silo remains stable in the molecular wind where the weird insight’s silver awaits the later coming invader. Dilettantes, your stirring must be louder than such a smelly metadiscourse. Filth must vanish under the slogan: One blight on the nation for everybody! Because now, it really becomes embarassing in Europe.
No illusion is capable to fake this universe – neither a symbolical reversal of a digital graphic nor an allegorical exaggeration at the banks of the revolt. The eternal shadow of ourselves sticks to us like death and reminds us to accept intensely the temptations of this myth because the realm of shadow can not be organized. In no hiding place this treasury can be revealed after the magic language of left places signified to give up the cool silence and to trust the spectacular wild paths leading finally through the foggy gorge and osseous labyrinth of urbanized and postmodern misunderstandings.
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