symptoms of this era, a landscape cold and barren
loaded with mysteries, forgotten by our grandparents.
what is das Ding? the apparition that haunts every generation.
unable to remember my dreams,
I have nothing to materialise. I cannot see das Ding.
you know what? forget it.

Das Ding is the gentle breeze that welcomes me in the morning, when the glory of dawn tightens its grip on my sleeping body, and every bird sings about das Ding, unable to hide their excitement, soaring into the sky to proclaim das Ding, that is also the water that freshens us, the sustaining mana of our bodies, but mostly, das Ding is the wind that helps me fly, and I am the tree, which is das Ding, that flows through me, and das Ding lifts me to a full view of the landscape, the world as it is, which is also das Ding, and everyday I feel lifted, descending only towards the end of the day, to the arms of das Ding, who accost me to sleep, and to dream of das Ding, only to wake up, forgetting what das Ding is, but to allow das Ding to welcome me again, so much so I can't bear to end my dreams of das Ding without knowing what das Ding really is, but I have to end with a full stop.