"What's wrong with them?" the voice of a coffee shop employee shouted between her pots and pans to the guest. 'You think nothing of it and then something like this happens! 46 years, 3 children'.
If they were to abandon any endeavour to understand such action, they would come closer to the deed. Disinterest in the other self, which is their own.
The text goes on about this and that, house, yard, children's birthday parties. Who what about whom? Loud, shrill, flat. But: in connection with the person exchanging: 'So, everything's chic at your place!
There's nothing to do. Only the strange listening from the silence gives a picture of what is happening. This world moves through itself, the touching happens to everyone unconsciously.
More energy and performance is waving around the ears of the reader in every field, everywhere change is seen as the cure for that inner mastery of becoming the master of one's own life, preferably combined with a competition.
Should the question rather be: "What's wrong with them?" Those who can no longer stand this world leave, assuming that the other is a better one. Or they build a new one for themselves within the framework of the old one.
Every attempt to escape fails due to lack or abundance: this permitted world remains polar in all its appearance of needing, becoming and wanting. Wherever happiness revels, appearances are deceptive. Wherever pain revels, appearances are deceptive.
Very few people are on the trail of an essentiality, that there is nothing that saves because everything is already there.
Every being breaks in the happening of the living. All knowledge becomes void in the abundance of what is offered. All learning finds the ground of unlearning.
Nothing is as usable as NOT being usable.
To scrutinise the loop of dependencies in the eternal search to find what cannot be found.
It remains forever misunderstood - the creeping suicide.
For those who don't want to understand ...
English 
German