The phantom of my illusory fantasies, which for a long time I perceived as love nourishing the body with blood and milk, began to fill my fragile mind with smoke. With poison it relaxed the muscles of the body; they no longer seek movement toward the paths of fresh wind. The road to the peaks has become overgrown with hemp grass, and clouds have veiled my mind, making it pliantly lazy and limiting the spectrum of sensual desires.
And in order to preserve calmness of mind and relaxation, I myself began to agree with untruth — which seemed to lie at the foundation of my desires. Sweet deception became a new house of healing for a body aching for love. It slightly opened the roads to my subconscious, yet gave birth to dark fears within the soul and did not grant me the strength to gather movement.
I have long been wandering this road by touch, brushing against the damp walls of a cave. I have lost track of time in the emptiness. Days flicker by in monotonous simplicity, and my crystal of talent sinks into the sand.