A SIDE NOTE FROM THIS CENTURY

Now I'm still crossing the lonely wooden bridge carved by chervil, where the lazy centuries long ago rested. My jacket-sized shadow and the dusk falling on the mélange are with me. The small forest clearing, where the immortal lovers exchanged so many kisses, is reddened by the flood of flames of Dragon Day. In the Executioner's Time, the decaying century-old document creaks; it would be better to replace its rusting kicks urgently.

Uncertainty knocks its scheduled fears into me, like the knocks of a typewriter. If I'm not careful, the sú-ette boards under my ton elephant feet can quickly break. That's why I take refuge more slowly, half-heartedly, more hesitantly. Many people, like snakes, would still reach for career opportunities, and like miserable refugees on sinking ships; rather, they deeply humiliate themselves so that they can assert themselves with certain methods.

The tolerated days stomp on leaden feet, just like the goblins. I know: the Wheel of Time, although it turns tirelessly, who will confess, say that I stand by you even in times of great trouble?! - Fate, like the time of the unknown traveler, dragged even its own selfish members, which was once carried by Man. Are all good intentions already cursed at the same time?!

I would still look for - God knows - if I had the opportunity in the current chaotic world, the One-Someone who will still accompany me in the other half of life - but I'm afraid it's all just a foolish, wild, shattered dream. I rather turn inward and while the miscarried out there are struggling with each other, what is the use of centuries? I question my existence: who, where, how could it have made a mistake?!

I was never interested in a cascade of screaming throats; anyway, there are more and more situations when the unbalanced pressure inside the person is increasing. Grayness and dull gloom are precipitated from the claws of the mighty.