In May 2009 I took a job that I did not understand. She was hysterical required condition for my love in a foreign city and the first major Independence: My marble cliffs. Meanwhile, I should have nursed the position as my own man in the business of any confusion. But now, as the business dissolves into confusion, bring me the first inkling of clarity, not more than a good taste, which attracts the dead meat in the finish by himself. It was also never asked of me, except require the use of precisely those of myself, make of it what you want, but do it well! Bloss, the money which I did this work, lost time, which cost me, its value. In this peculiar gap year, pitted my passions and concerns over so that when I'm bitter, barely survived. Of course there was much to gain - as each time came out, therefore, with gifts for the Treasure of the writer. This is simultaneously encouraging and inevitable.
And why should be spared me, what no one is spared? The difference between the will and the world is not all so conscious and painful. The liberal upbringing has me - and many of my friends - put on a pedestal, every first of the square. We defend in the sunshine, but mostly in the shade. Today we can easily create selfish worlds. Be tempted to live so that everything else we know and love and else else takes any time at arm's length revolves around you. As the world becomes seemingly smaller in this way, we forget their growing size - and are surprised to whom it passes us with their own plans.
Last year, I no longer wanted as in highly coded images report on my activities. I was ashamed of this fact for the timeless life I was paid relatively expensive - a remarkable effort conjured passion, I to question the overload of work always forgot. Money is the drug of the drones. Why everything seemed so terribly interesting, while a part of me rebelled against it. What part satisfied me what I do, what hurts, what I leave? How do I measure the weight of these parts, in which I am apart?
is also my work area only as riddled with Anglicisms. What I did may sound, just not good.
If I, as it otherwise could, but it said, then with an unusual strength. It came from the painful effort of myself and the conviction was ultimately as a kind of passion. It can be seen by how much persuades a person talking to themselves, the extent of their internal discord.
August 2010: Project completed, the future open, people split, spent money, passion put to the test, bitter end, transit, where? And from idealists suddenly become human beings. The common good is polarizing into a bunch of individual plans. While I try, because they sparkle so beautifully, some pieces of the business aside, I take more time for the other and note: not writing has become easier.
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