In a different autumn, I would have been embarrassed by sampling. Did I drag you along to the outermost mountains?
That we never really become a part of the world. The worried third is completely beside itself.
In the sunlight we quiver like something resembling precious stone resembling a sparkle from the depths of the Earth. I wrote letters to you in my thoughts and followed the movements of the road along the coast and the sea, hesitatingly.