I'm not just a worker, Raven, I can't squeeze myself on and on and forever! I can not, because it's not natural, To make art permanent just for yourself, without spectators. Not twenty, for thirty years, five, ten years, and, maybe, depending on the maturation process. But at some point it is harmful and makes you sick, to work in the dark. Nobody can do that in the long run. How no one can live without interaction in the long run, Raven. But I don't stand a chance, and I don't know what to do, so that someone can take an interest in my complex work, I always get rejected, because I'm too flat too unliterary, too clumsy and organic, because I'm not academic….I'm tired and desperate, because I have to express myself, like any other worker, who has nothing else left….. but I can't go on like this. The market will never accept me, because I am simple and demanding at the same time, because I don't bring any topics, all of which matter…..because I only write personally, but that's obsolete nowadays, in the time of the dissolution of the ego. How difficult, that I am still such a remnant of me and not a dynamic construct. What shall I do? I disappear behind each of my work, I'm gray with mold, my shine consists only of tears,