Goesting, Graz

If intellectual and physical potential of humans is endless, so is potential to feel. Normal life hardly gives opportunity to use this potential in full strength. But everybody knows in his heart he could experience more intensive, pure and strong feelings, and everybody dreams about true love. We all have relationships with which are never completely satisfied.

We drag these relationships on like inevitable bonds. We would persuade ourselves that we love those close to us but there are always dark streams of doubt in enormous depth of our heart. If it is love, why we are unhappy? Even proclaiming that we care for others, we have complicated and contradiction feelings, which we never reveal. Did you notice that you can never be fond of somebody completely? You feel blissful completeness and admiration only when you stay in significant distance from one of your adore. Whenever you make step closer – inevitable blemishes come into sight. You tend to like some segments and dislike others.

When you come up closer and closer, feeling of inner rejection and resistance increase. Being too close we can not admire at all, moreover feelings of critics, despise and cold indifference come to surface and poison us. Eventually you want to free yourself and find new object of adoration. Process repeats itself. Too close relationships are really ruinous for intimate friendship. I recollect in my memory face of the first Austrian man with whom I was in love. I liked every curve of his face and figure, smell of his body, his movements, and sound of his voice.

When I saw him my heart leaped up in my chest. But strong feelings had quality to change quickly and transit to their opposites. Concentration camps are pure innocence comparing to cruelty that beloved monsters demonstrate to each other. Not once I begged him for help and complained I had no normal food for days. I asked him: was it only way to survive for me in this country going to local brothel at piece of meat for drunken styrian men?

He replied probably it was. He did not care. He did not care if I would disappear, marry, win million in lottery or burn myself in front of Rathaus protesting against discrimination. It is impossible to touch a heart of man unless you don’t offer him ever lying body of yours with moist something between legs. Once he liked me. Once I loved him and then experienced metamorphoses of ruinous hatred. Stand clear of love. Do you know? Try to be friend.