17.3.2010, 13.5.2010 Every day, every day, an entry that I write myself a reminder on the wall. Why at all? Because it was a silly year maybe? Because I had long enough away misled about deeper needs? Because people have wasted time? Because then catch up? Attribute, the gap the longer the unwritten is? Conscience sake? The disappointment for the sake of the future? Against despair? The funeral?
No! Out of fear, not to play the role one has to play. For fear of not being the one who writes. Profession: writer. Everyone has to assert itself, all of us and also the font. She has been to be by those who can decorate with it. Man looking for each other. The man is a bit more than writing. It is a kind of dress, and as such it more inwardly and outwardly. If you then feel naked, you have rumgetrödelt too long. Since helping to write or only drink. Character set, happy be, to be a writer. You just have to do really well to be.
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