top of page

Silentius' necrology


Make a plan, be a smart light. Make yourself a second one! Because the first one doesn't work that way! "Plan B?" "Doesn't exist!" "C?" ... the room filled with irrelevant silence ... "DEFG?" ... evil eye .. "What about whoops... Ok, ok ! I'll give up.” If a discourse were to reflect my life, and for some inexplicable reason it was reduced to an infinitesimally small number of bits, it would be mine. If I had a choice, I would at least give this coincidence more creativity. A brief inattentive moment had the bitter result, so it must have happened that I seemed to have caught one of those unmistakably annoying curses with prophetic ambitions. Once carelessly out into the open, once spent the day thoughtlessly and it sticks to you like a militant burr with strong legs. She seems to be vehemently convinced that she has found a particularly exquisite breeding ground in my person, which she will under no circumstances allow to be contested again. Every attempt to make the self-proclaimed gourmet palatable to one or the other neighbor who was rather a nuisance to me failed miserably. At least in this way, with a moderately good conscience, I can just about avoid being accused of resigning myself to drowning in the river of fate. If you think about it more closely, reality hits you mercilessly in the naive moon face. In this way, you will unmistakably hear their manifestation of being, INJUSTICE. So it is not surprising that the narrow-minded small-minded from the neighborhood is able to escape this stigmatizing burden with mere authenticity in all its deficits. So what is left for me to do, apart from facing the unloved misery with all its repugnances? Good advice is now expensive. I don't seem worthy of any consolation, even for the great among names. Is it the cowardice of the homo-I-would-like-to-be-sapiens that conjures up spontaneous inspiration under the cloak of an emphatically tolerant interpretation, or the brazen ignorance of one's own inadequacy? Does that even matter? So now a free spirit encounters the original sin laid in man's cradle and succumbs to the temptation to give in to it. Is the glorious child, relativity, after all a lovingly protective embrace from Mother Nature? I would be a rebellious fool to resist this auspicious blur of relentless truth. - FUCK YOU - destiny I despise YOU! I don't pay attention to you! DO YOU LISTEN TO ME? What do YOU want to do now? Like a dirty parasite you suck at my fragile morals. Now, completely unexpectedly and finally, I hear a quiet, vague voice... Is it really whispering to me? Don't stop, I'm listening! Every syllable, every word, I like very much, are hope, are a guest, are welcome. As a pale shadow of myself, reeking of treachery, I will treat you well. We are brothers now. Nothing other than longing for salvation craving phantasms in a dark, hopeless night. So you speak now, Kafka, dead star among many: "The first sign of beginning knowledge is the desire to die." Good night.



bottom of page