Freedom
<...> Freedom is when a salty breeze chills your skin through light linen. When your bare feet feel the wood of the deck warmed by the low sun. And you are sailing on a broad reach, and the captain, a little embarrassed that he interrupted your thoughts, asks what course comes next. And you, slightly shivering from the wind, without turning toward him, say "Nassau" and put your face back into the spray from the bowsprit. Like that. And in this concrete hell, these crippled little souls of office wankers will not become any freer, no matter how many shades of magenta they put on.
Written by Demigod, 29.09.2008 at 15:55