I write this as I explore my own pain. I hide and use repetition. I am somewhere that does not welcome growth and reeks of envy. A place stuck in mud. It does not inspire me to be at my best, to express myself through color and style. It instructs you to be like the others and not raise any eyebrows in the process, whatever small deviation will catch unwanted attention. The people here have big antennas for things foreign. Anything you say you should be careful, never seem too joyful, never look too pleased and never wear things new and tasteful. Don’t wake the monsters, for they roam invisible and are at the ready. They teach you to pretend to always be miserable and boring. Comply with the law of keeping your head low.

No growth, no beauty, no investment. They only talk poverty.

I am sick of this. The planet is a wealth of resources. Landscapes, eternal moods, ambiance, music, the world is so alive and fashionable. I want to live and die in a world that wants to see you at your best. Not drowning while someone is sipping from the same water.