I’ll start with the title.
You fear what you don’t understand. They’re still playing games; it’s all a play, just look around: the audience is empty. Everyone’s sold their tickets for costumes. I tried to get off – couldn’t find the edge – give me an exit!
This is my crazy.
The fundamental genius of science is observation. Know your subjects: watch the stage. The players looked up to show that it’s snowing – Quick! Catch one on your tongue. Chase it, catch it, lick it, there’s no time to taste it. Just catch as many as you can!
– I watched as they all ran themselves into submissive frenzy, a mad Brownian movement. Catch as many as you can; that is success? This is crazy.
So they chase those transient snowflakes, falling and soaring with every drift. In their desperation, they see nothing else; just running in circles, not going anywhere. And so ironic: craving what they’re made of – couldn’t find snow in Siberia. They just run to catch up with the Sun while their spirit whispers away, dancing, like smoke into the midnight air … but when their sun sets, they’re simply out of breath.
And where were these snowflakes coming from? I looked up –
And tears came into my eyes,
And I wept.
Time sails on blue skies.
Crisp, icy intimacy.
My little crazy.
In a shy darkness, a melancholic beauty approaches in the humid air; chills of awe course my spine… Is it the wine?
No! Not just Kelvin and Joule having tea! Breathe in the air; it soothingly brushes your soul. See its beauty; hear its wisdom.
What use are snowflakes? Appreciate if they come, but it’s a waste to seek them out. How can you have peace of mind if you’ve spent your life’s time acquiring some snow? It may look pretty, but you’re just a burnt-out fag in the end. And when the sun comes, all your snow will melt, and you’ll be forced to look yourself in the eye.
You think I’m crazy?
Your crazy. I’ve still my ticket.
Look up before you die.
Un-focus your eyes, you’ll see:
You’ve completely missed the sky.