A period of quantum decoherence in my identity. As Neiztche wrote: One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star. Nothing helps; I must help myself, or I am finished. Forgiveness of thy enemy, forgiveness of yourself. Wu Wei, 无为, be like water, the highest good, Yield to gravity, yet wear down mountains, Or as my American side would say, on my Bruce Lee shit. Silence is first lonely, Then you realize it's full of life, What the first brushstroke, keystroke is born from, What every masterpiece is born from. Once you recognize the absurd, the whole intensity of life is restored. No feeling is final. One is as temporary as one's emotions. I am no one tonight to be who I wish at death.