Ploudalmézeau (Finistère, France)
I was euphoric when I did my tour along the coast. I was also euphoric when I was working on a website. But what followed the euphoria was different on both days. After the tour I felt fulfilled and happy, but after working on the website I felt empty and miserable.
How do you get the feeling out of your body of being a nameless person, one with a heavy past and no future, no history and no meaning? One without meaning. I am trapped in this feeling. The more time passes, the clearer the one inner voice becomes that keeps whispering the same thing to me: you're not worth it.
I try to get a grip on it, pause, recognize nothing and yet see everything as it spreads out before me in real time. A world view that is changing at a crazy speed. Here the good guys, and there the bad guys. Me here and the world there. Where the figures once seemed static and stayed in the same place like dolmens for decades, they have now started to move. Until then, I was moving to escape the world, now the world is moving to catch up with me.
The shadows of the present darken this world. A world that is changing rapidly. A world in which I see even less of a place for myself than in the one that is going under. A world in which the arrogant and stupid seem to have the upper hand. That's right, the bad guys. But maybe it's completely different and I just don't realize how brilliant they are. And that out of all the destruction they carry out, paradise emerges in the end.
Where is my home in this changing world? I still don't have a satisfactory answer to that. And that too, or especially that, burdens me. The feeling of home is nothing more than a vague memory of a time that has long since passed. It was no longer the present, always just the past. And a dream. The dream that one day it will awaken again and I will be able to say of a place that this is my home.
I have stopped dreaming. Not just about that, but about many other things too. There is no more room for dreams, it seems. I don't know if dreaming is worth it anymore. Dreams used to be all I had. They built up possibilities in me for a different life. They even opened doors for me to university and new worlds. They took me as far as India. Later to Berlin. And then here. Now they are no more. So what comes after them?
I was euphoric when I did my tour along the coast. I was also euphoric when I was working on a website. But what followed the euphoria was different on both days. After the tour I felt fulfilled and happy, but after working on the website I felt empty and miserable.
How do you get the feeling out of your body of being a nameless person, one with a heavy past and no future, no history and no meaning? One without meaning. I am trapped in this feeling. The more time passes, the clearer the one inner voice becomes that keeps whispering the same thing to me: you're not worth it.
I try to get a grip on it, pause, recognize nothing and yet see everything as it spreads out before me in real time. A world view that is changing at a crazy speed. Here the good guys, and there the bad guys. Me here and the world there. Where the figures once seemed static and stayed in the same place like dolmens for decades, they have now started to move. Until then, I was moving to escape the world, now the world is moving to catch up with me.
The shadows of the present darken this world. A world that is changing rapidly. A world in which I see even less of a place for myself than in the one that is going under. A world in which the arrogant and stupid seem to have the upper hand. That's right, the bad guys. But maybe it's completely different and I just don't realize how brilliant they are. And that out of all the destruction they carry out, paradise emerges in the end.
Where is my home in this changing world? I still don't have a satisfactory answer to that. And that too, or especially that, burdens me. The feeling of home is nothing more than a vague memory of a time that has long since passed. It was no longer the present, always just the past. And a dream. The dream that one day it will awaken again and I will be able to say of a place that this is my home.
I have stopped dreaming. Not just about that, but about many other things too. There is no more room for dreams, it seems. I don't know if dreaming is worth it anymore. Dreams used to be all I had. They built up possibilities in me for a different life. They even opened doors for me to university and new worlds. They took me as far as India. Later to Berlin. And then here. Now they are no more. So what comes after them?