A persistent air of weakness may flare up, when the hesitant tunnels of the blood vessels may be torn open by a careless heart attack; the blood clots as big as rocks would hear the cry for help, which the restless heart probes in vain. As if it had become increasingly difficult, more burdensome to break down the silence of the liveable, visceral Reality, which is inevitably present and surrounds you. Generous sadness also forces a person in an increasingly persistent state to no longer be permanently happy and satisfied, since happiness is not a permanently constant state of mind, - but rather a forced euphoric agitation. The beating heart may crumble into its own purple, in its own muscles, if it is unable to listen to the words of the law of the Universe in this earthly existence.

Every person's lonely island story seems to have been born subconsciously, and could only exist in the floating ocean of inner thoughts, because it has nothing to do with the actual massive Reality. Because the weight of feelings, touches, and moods has become colorless, which would still have significance if they had once been created and acted upon in giving. The fierce mass tumult of blood molecules is simultaneously burned or destroyed by attraction and repulsion, the inevitable, indestructible pulsation.

Every single hesitantly successful act or deed now seems to release the certain impossible from itself!