Angst

Some trees blossom, and some don't. I wonder whether trees use up all the springs, like us, until they comprehend which kind of tree they are. I remember that, in the past, hence there was a problem called "eluding the night." Nowadays, the only anxiety at night is about how the next day will go. Among a lot of faces, to try to preserve your face even as clearly as possible. And to survive without transitioning to be another one in this world where everything is a copy of a copy of a copy of something. Only it is not satisfactory for men to know what kind of thing they are. And also, they need to be capable of conserving it. It means there will be new anxiety until the fall of a lifetime comes.

The song in my ear: "Until the morning comes", Tindersticks.