You’re not self-sufficient, and it was never your ambition. Freedom is not what you are looking for.
The blink of an eye, and it’s next year.
A new summer will not free itself from past summers. Like an addiction transferred to the next generation, like an entire family suffering from separation anxiety.
Wake up in the morning, wake up to a new day to see the future: a milklike haze, the present a darkness that can be touched. There is no progress. You look at your life, the ageing and everything else as it was. As it was or worse. Remember when you were your mother’s child, the center of the universe, when a world without you was unimaginable. With each year you become more and more decentralized
Above the gravel road leaves are rustling, arching branches. The elms, the poplar trees. The horse-chestnut in bloom. Lie down in dewy grass and see the sky infinite and blue looking down at you. Through succulent green it is looking back at you. What is it that is so important, that you have to do? This is the time for rest. At all other times you work. You think about money. The days that pass while you are gathering, building, saving up. Assets that will secure more rest. Heaven is looking down at you and you think about money, about papers that must be organised, put in binders, filed in shelves upon shelves while the grass keeps moving leisurely, as if under water, as if you were something at the bottom, something that very rarely surfaced.