He’s like a tired whirlwind, spinning on his own axis, exhausting himself. I would love to flip him and turn him around.
I’m exhausted myself, by life, by my never-ending train of thought…
God is the sweat running down his skin
Wenn du vor mir stehst und mich ansiehst, was weißt du von den Schmerzen, die in mir sind und was weiß ich von deinenFranz Kafka