Writing as if it is missing, now writing everything as if it is a joke, as if a craftsman is pouring oil according to habit in a closed machine.
These days there is a strange indifference, the air of the month of March is piercing. The battle with myself is increasing. He says - when the fight is with ourselves, there is no interest in winning, because we are left to be in the one who is losing.

Writing as if missing, now writing everything as if it is a food supply, as if a craftsman is pouring oil according to habit in a closed machine.

Like every time, I have grabbed the corner, whose guard is also me. He sometimes feels that looking too much is a kind of clumsiness.

Generation Gap : 

He wanted to keep his life between telling everything and hiding a lot. Just like an artist walking on a rope, holding himself in the middle above the ground. If he leans on any one side, he falls to the ground, and starts wrapping himself.

He is slowly becoming convinced that whoever he has lost will never come back.

All his successes seem to him to be empty, as if he had been carrying a lie for so many years.
He no longer wants to hide himself like a game of hide and seek, in which it is certain that someone will find it or he will have to come out and win on his own.

He now wants to remain hidden like a serious criminal who cannot be easily traced.