but there was something i enjoyed. it's all rubbish. being back home makes no sense. what do i have left? leftovers? or should i chew on the memories? such a nice time, such a mix of good and bad manners. what for? it's life, it's alive. being the reason and bringing the reason. my beerbelly hums to the hymn of excitement and collective anxiety.
there is something about festivals.
this really makes no sense at all. but that's just the way it is. i could never do anything that's good work, that makes people come back for more, that brings a consciousness to their mind, that plays with ther feelings, that causes a reaction. no. not me. i'm not able to concentrate. fractured. i'd like to say i'm sorry, but i can't. i apologize to myself, if something.
fuck this.
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