…. That's the story about one, that I know.
It is actually not a story. The only thing that is certain is, that this, what I told you about her here, is old. Age is in vain. With one blow. But she was young then, Long. The youth is everything, What counts. Also, if that, What she did young then, no longer counts. Which is why I told the story here from behind.
.
To show, how it came, that I disappeared, Before I really disappeared, I scratched these leaves. I wasn't really born back then. And therefore there is a connection, that the biography holds together. But not necessarily a causality. You can tell a story from behind to the front, But live from the front again, You can't do that.
And I say amen to that.
(I think, that I will now have three parts:
1. the late book: Sickhouse (2022-24), social disruption, the age (In principle, the state of emergency continues, the world could be seen as also suffering from the disease)
2. the middle book: Disappear: (2015 – 2020), The state of emergency: from the “psychosomatic” becomes the physical illness, experience love again, Pandemic
3. the early book: Belief, (- 2010ca.) Fragments of a whole, still intact self in the state of nature, that is destroyed, Psychopathologization and the fragility of the “Beliefs”
There is a spot, which I haven't been able to solve yet, because a chapter/episode of Disappearance coincides with Sickhouse, which cuts through temporality. But I don't know, whether I have solved the problem, when I have solved the problem. I think, the prevailing one, The overriding feeling in me is insolubility. And she will, if I should finish the manual, persist. Freedom would have meant, to have created a life, without even having to resort to artistic sublimation. Freedom would have meant, to have lived life, that I want and that I desire, this despite an illness, which to me 80% tied to the bed. Precisely because of this. I've been wondering for a long time, whether such a big pretext is even a pretext in my eyes. What is the world to me?, in which I live, when I am excluded from it, so completely, just, because I can't use my body? What does it mean to me?, to be in her, if my illness is considered a disability, for my environment, on the way to that, what I still am? In a way, this is a world, in which I have no business …. this as a biographical fact and in view of the fact, that I work&Life would never have separated…..