You’re lying there in a meadow of flowers and it seems like the happiest place in the world, but it’s not me and Pautzi…, yes, it wasn’t Pautzi either. And all these events, this unstoppable frenzy that is called life, all the feelings that have driven me into this delirium, it’s such an unbearable place here. And then I lie here and think about what brought me to this place, what happens after things, when it ends, or whether it even starts again. Yes, maybe I’ve already seen too much of the aftermath. I mean, again and again it seems to start, but instead of a beginning, I ride myself further and further into this shit and sink into this place that just imagined itself as my flower meadow.