Steiner's Digest

I’m in a strange mood. I seem to have lost perspective. The past is hidden in a cloud of coloured dust. I know there are beautiful things in it, but I can’t make them out, can’t even name the colours anymore. A paradise lost in the noise, confusion and silent desperation of the present.

The future holds no promise either. It just looms in front of me like a giant cliff that threatens to destroy me, as my ship drifts irresistibly towards it.

I look at my face in the mirror, and I don’t recognise it, don’t know if I still exist or have become a character in someone else’s dream. A minor character, an indifferent bystander who watches coldly or with a hollow smile as things – wonderful or horrible – happen to the dreamer.