INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Laszlo Slomovits
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ANGUISH This is the story of my existence, slow and prolong, beans and garlic, occasional steak and tiny flashes of happiness; hearts in barbed wire behind windows and closed doors waiting a feathers and tar and one boy which the Maker didn't design to be. REFLECTIONS OVER THE STATUS QUO What is to live but to mince upon the footsteps of others, that were here before you. Living is like walking! Rhythmic, hastily, leisurely-- to sniff at the fallen autumn leaves, to observe the faces passing you by on the hot sidewalk, to hear the garbage trucks and the ice-cream trucks and the mailman's truck. Each step is like a heartbeat into the chest of the creation; each upcoming moment is your future movement. When you stride down the boulevard, you feel more than alive, feeling the pulse of the living, of the street, of the city, of this world. You are part of it! Seize the day and keep on going until the day when your legs will be just a dot in the end of the line, just like this one. MISLEADING ACCURACY The stone is just a stone and nothing else. The ocean could be something more or less, when the eagle rises into the upper layer of our world's cover, we loose our breath. Now, the word on the page consists of more energy than, let say, a whiz-bang. The line can be more incisive than a scythe, and the book is often more meaningful than the ocean itself. You see, creation is easy. Living is opaque. Now, let's think about the stone, again.
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