When the line of becoming joins the depths of the earth, the force seems to take a turn of being. Those circles in the world of appearances are found in darkness and light, seldom the holding light. The distance shows itself close, its goal dwelling in the vastness of unattainability. Joy is rewarded with the conception of pain, believed to be the fulfilment of a longing that is flooded with light. Lost in enchanted happiness, the rigid night of the soul nestles, seeking the healing space whose hand has never been grasped. Embracing it, it leads unquestioningly into the fullness of silence, whose bedding is soft and catches what seemed tired of life. The path to furtive happiness remains long.
R.I.P. Jana Svaha, whose train of life held self-determined
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