Like raindrops stuck to a glass my life does not change in a moment giving a false impression of eternity. Weaving through the fog I find the energy to count the minutes and wind the clock, again and again. There is a certain peace in realizations, when the road no longer twist and we can see far in the distance and disillusions no longer burn for days or years but are bitterly absorbed with the sweetness of a day. The search for life becomes one for serenity, for acceptance with my thirst for more slowly being nailed down to the headstone by the counting of years. It is not about giving up but giving out, about compromises and understanding, about letting be what was meant to be and will be. It is life after all, stuck to my reality like raindrops on a glass.
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