the begginning of my first novel(english version)
A winter’s day, everything is boring and quiet; the world has left the clouds after a dream that’s over. A room full of people who’s trying to enlighten themselves with information they won’t need for the rest of their lives. Everything turns dark. A light goes off as a silent voice tickles through a half-opened window. A silent raindrop drips on the roof. I sit quiet and think: Where should I go? What should I do now? Because I love to make rhymes I love to write poems. I wrote one right now. Do you wanna hear it? Probably not, but anyway:
After all that has been done
After all that has been said
After all that has gone
After all this day’s been fed.
In the left meadow
With the grey sky
I n the dead bed
Where someone use to lie
I feel that this poem describes the conditions of my life at this point. Whatever I do the past will always haunt me. Even though the past is not that bad, even better than the present, I will always have something I miss and I will always know that the past was better than either the present or the future will ever be.
