I have one often recurring plot of sleep. I'm going somewhere in a hurry, I'm afraid to be late and collect a bunch of small things. For me, for some reason, it is IMPORTANT to collect all this trash and take it with you. This rubbish reminds me of many people, many stories that I drag along with me, wherever I go. For me, for some reason, it is IMPORTANT to drag them. They are somewhere in their lairs fed bear cubs, and I still drag them. For what great mission? As a sniffer dog is allowed to smell a rag, so I constantly sniff this rotten rag to look for, seek, search.

https://i07.fotocdn.net/s29/146/gallery_l/494/2699685265.jpg

It is difficult to accept that you are on another level, in another parallel, when you so much want to clamp in the fists something that once was important for yourself. Something that I identified with a single landmark in my life. Learning to live somehow without it. I will not be able to describe how this is, and to whom I want to reach it, I just want to learn to live without it, not to encroach in my life some fantasies, not to stick them deeply, not to feel deeply. Turning the soul inside out to anyone, anything, we give this one a knife in hand. And it depends on him whether he will guard us with this knife or slice it into pieces. It's sad that I'm giving away knives with such confidence.