Your moods change with the moon. You experience but don’t comprehend yourself. Or comprehend too many things at once, watch yourself with too many eyes while you should look like the Buddha: blindly, fixed on the void filled to the brim. You set out all the same, not knowing where? How could anyone trust you? How could you trust yourself? Your very first step betrays you. You’re like the midday moon. You walk virgin paths on the far side of yourself where no-one can follow. Get ready for the night! Look across the Earth with eyes turned inside out! There are no safe estimates. No path to lead to the goal. Where the mix of despair, wrath and conceit poisons, the one who puts all his eggs in the one basket is likely to win. His victory brings a brand-new set of rules. There will come those who speak his lingo like a native tongue. Keep clear of them! Walk your sleeping city like a graveyard, so that time can befriend you. Draw courage from this: the city neither remembers nor forgets but its houses mould time, and it devours all its inhabitants in the end.