"Find what you love and let it kill you!" (Bukowski)
As I get older, the more I have to do, because the time is running out. But the more I do, the faster time passes, as if she wanted to force me to reason. But they will fail. Reason is foreign to me and has never interested me. The sixties, when the time did not exist is the only home I have. Time was beaten to death with amphetamine or otherwise ignored. Just dance until you drop, was the motto and no trace of reason. I’m homesick, wants to go back to this country that I when I was there, barely perceived. I didn’t have the time to look around, was not reasonable enough to enjoy them. And now today remains me of nothing more than to dance till I drop.