Despair never lets go its prey; it is only the prey which isolates despair in the end of a love or the death of a child, where there is only its shadow. Mourning is a pretext, a convenient way of spitting out nothingness in small drops. The tears, the cries and howls of childhood remain imprisoned in the hearts of men. For ever? In you also the emptiness is growing. Nothingness fills the void between atoms. I'm already dreaming of the next time I'm going to be in bed and how to make it better. O, rid me of my responsibility's yoke. I wish to spend the day dreaming. Alas, I must rationalize even my sleep. I must conserve my energy for the day the lies ahead. Is that my laziness justifying itself? Let me instead stare my calling and smart it at once! I treat my keyboard like a sick child and indulge its every whim and fancy.
