Kevin ( Spades 10)
Conversation in the Mind - the eternal question of the legitimacy of romance.
A child has a mother and a father. They go to school, assimilate into a working life, have children who also go to school, and so on... blah... honestly, what a load of crap. It's sad that no one really questions anymore whether having a filled bank account and reproducing miniature versions of their messed-up selves is truly the most important thing. Damn, it's messed up. First, the distraction-entertainment-manipulation boxes flickered in every household. Now there's constant stimulation for the neural pathways - mobile for every individual 24/7. The industry of optimization politics is now both religion and science. Silicone and botox are a grotesque, twisted superiority of the current natural selection.
Let them all lie in their Brazilian buds and keep swallowing pills for sadness and fatigue. I yearn for stories with more humanity. Stories from bygone eras and values without this manipulative input. Humans have always been sick creatures, but in the mass delusion of propaganda technology, they are like a pandemic virus."
An old story that always calms me down is the one of a woman named Edit (Clubs Q). She wrote a book about noble brothers and their miraculous encounter with a hyena. The hyena in the story was named Belle (Spades A) and was a magnificent, very strong animal, held captive by one of the brothers. The brothers Carl and Friedemar (Clubs K, Clubs J) with a royal pedigree could not be more different. Carl was domineering and choleric, and Friedemar wise and gentle. Edit knew them all from royal balls to which she was invited as a pleasure lady. Yes, even then everything revolved around power, sex, and revelry. I don't judge these human needs. I'm just ashamed of too much concentrated nonsense in the current edition of humanity. So Edit was a noble and sought-after prostitute. Belle, the hyena, got to know Edit as a kind of bouncer at such events. Belle was not an employee, but a slave. Despite her awe-inspiring strength, she had no chance against human weapons. She knew that and resigned herself to her captivity. Her joy in life consisted of watching people and developing friendships with the good ones among them. Maybe that's why I feel so close to her. I try to observe and filter out the people who have a good heart. All others should be irrelevant to me. Massum (Spades 8) is such a person. He is such a pure soul. Ignorant people cannot be around him, and that is why he was trapped in his victim role for so long. He was bullied and abused. I can't save him, but I offered him my friendship, and now we are the best of friends. It's a great feeling to have a friend. Edith and Belle must have felt the same way. Their story sounds almost like a fairy tale, and who knows, maybe it didn't really happen that way at all. For my part, though, I want to believe their story. She was a prostitute with a pure soul, the hyena had a big heart, and then came the encounter with the prince. Yes, exactly, it's a love story.
A Game of Underdogs and Naked Cats.
A game everyone plays: life. Each living being draws a card. Is the story already written? Survival instincts are inherited, but knowledge and experiences remain individual. All circumstances shape life. Dirt leaves stains and stench. Weapons etch body and soul with deep scars, painting pain in a liquid form, sticky and bitter on your skin. Some are gifted with a shield of protection or wrapped in soft benevolence. Others are left with only the cold, hard ground. One has the unstoppable urge to hide, while others seek the stage, the light, and the grand performance. For some, the heart grows so large that they can hardly manage to distribute all the feelings it pumps through their veins evenly, in order not to lose consciousness. The others won't even spare a thought for the existence of a heart. Circumnavigating walls we build ourselves, ensnared in routines and drowning in processes, we live on. We smell happiness and simultaneously bite into rotten fruit. We dream of freedom and tighten our grip on objects until we can no longer walk independently. Some can fly and are fueled by envy. Some want to sleep and are envied for their determination. Everyone wants to love and confuses the path there with labor. All cards are constantly shuffled, and the game begins anew. Everything is interconnected and develops its meaning only in harmony. Everything is mad and delightful, impartial and infinite. Just as we would like it - or not?
