Now weary hands again, now weary legs again, a darkness that will not lift. I laugh, so that the firm walls shift. But now I’m lying, confess: I’m weeping, nonetheless.
Walser / Hamburger
How ghostly in its sinking and rising is my life. To myself I see myself wave and vanish from the waver
As laughter I see myself and then as deepest sadness, then as a wild weaver of words; yet all of it sinks, goes down.
And surely at all times can never have been right. To roam forgotten spaces has always been my plight.