!['[Why do people die as volume...]', by Mykyta Ryzhykh](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/59aef3bacd39c38dabcb0dc2/1720499139764-4849B0NIDDZGFZZJ5CT2/Screenshot+2024-07-08+at+23.24.21.png)
The night never ends anywhere. There are only two of us: me and death. I am always alone. Conscious death does not exist: however, as well as conscious life.
Read More
The revolution still waits for us.
The friend with open arms
Is still smiling.
I remember sunflowers inside out. Ripened roots accompanied by leaves and
the leaving.
Close your eyes
and see it,
know what I tell you is true.
“Dormant doesn’t exist – dead is dead!”
to which Jahweh said,
“You old devil, what’s wrong with your head?
Only Nietzsche is dead.”
Which was liked by all
and shared by many.
It’s tight at our table,
unknown parts of the same group,
face to face, and she wants to
teach me to drink Cognac.