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Thursday, 17 April 2025

 I woke to a light rain.

I accepted it and listened.

The blackbirds were silent.

I’m in Slovakia; I was born here.

Ekecs. Yesterday, Budapest.

Meanwhile, I was staring at a map of Argentina.
“Should I travel to Tokyo?”

I was bored with all of them.
Human’s culture is childish

Every country is pointless.
What is this? What word?

The atavistic or-and archaic?

Money isn’t civilised…

Religion isn’t about doing good…

But the silence... a smile—

they’re somewhat comforting

Obvious, fitting answers

To this self-satisfied,

grasping human world

And every morning, waking up in it,

I have to remind myself

That sadly, it exists—

And it’s more

than just a nightmare.




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