Sometimes I feel I’m walking, again, staring at the sky: the Sun has already wanished behind the hills. With every step I take, I feel as if the clouds keep drawing away in front of the soon but not yet black background. I am unable to avoid making much account of this; as if my dreams I keep chasing were flying away into an inconquerable distance, as if they were just playing with me, as usual. I’m getting used to it, I guess. I am definitely on the wrong track, that’s for sure, I know. I have no idea when and what I messed up, I just feel the lack of something deep inside. I feel endlessly empty and at the same time heavy as hard lead. I am not even falling any more. To fall, first you have to take off, that’s what I’ve never done – maybe I was rolling every once in a while but never actually left the gound, not for a desperate moment.