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Life is too short for boring stories

nature also revived. Maybe it was just a coincidence, or not. It does not matter. Roles, masks, ideas of ourselves, to which we correspond or not, of which we have a notion or not, which we have given ourselves or not. But there lay a promise in the air, as is often the case, but on this day of awakening, and also of nature, it did not only lie, but took us in. And I wanted to stay where I was, in my Sleeping Beauty-repose.

I had not decided myself either for the one or the other, only accepted it. Afterwards, so that it still somehow according to own will, even if I knew better, possibly admitted to me, I pretended as if it had been a decision. For me. When I was taken by the arm and my finger was stung at the spindle, I said I had moved and stabbed myself. But only when I realized that it was so far and I was in deep sleep. Dream walking in a life I no longer listened to. Cave out. Retreat into secrecy. Afterwards, it is always easy to copy a version that deludes a conscious deed, even for myself. Especially for myself. Until the day when a promise lay in the air, on the day of awakening, as well f nature, in which sit not only lay, but caught up with us. And at the same time I felt so strongly in the untouchability.

I had settled down in what was my life house. There was a clear separation. The public spaces that were accessible, yes, which I deliberately unlocked, which represented a picture of me, which I had painstakingly painted and lovingly designed. In the middle of the dream an art figure. Strong and upright, steadfast and unpredictable. To this point, and no further, was the unmistakable message. Behind it were the rooms, which I carefully kept locked, and into which I withdrew when I wanted to make myself invisible. No one should be there, because it would have challenged me and destroyed the image I had been working on for so long, and on which I hung so, because I saw no alternative. But on that day, when there lay a promise in the air on the day of awakening, and also of nature, in which it not only lay, but caught up with us, you looked at me, and the hidden opened itself, so that you could see me as I was.

I had not foreseen it, but it had happened. You looked around. It pleased you, what you saw, in all fairness and naturalness, without any adjustment or artificiality. The masks had fallen. And I discovered that you brought me closer to myself. Also, it did not hurt. No more. Perhaps it had never hurt. But only the possibility had frightened me. But you thought that was not all that there was more. Hidden behind a thick rose hedge that had grown over the years so strong that even the sharpest sword could not hurt. But you touched it, with your hand, as you had touched me, so that something broke loose in me, so that the hedge disappeared, leaving a door of which I knew nothing more of which I wanted to know nothing. But on that day, when there lay a promise in the air, on the day of awakening, and also of nature, in which it not only lay, but caught up with us, you held the key which suited this door, which I had long since lost, so that I found the broken pieces that I was.

I had not decided to go to sleep and grow the hedge. Just afterwards claimed, for my own protection, for protection from myself. I saw myself lost in this sleep when you took me in the arm so that our lips found themselves, to a unity, to a whole, into which you me awakened. On this day.

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