Day 7
Day of rest. Day of God himself. In worldy Switzerland, the day of worldly glory maskarading as Protestantism.
There is a feeling of panic in the air.
The Swiss are terrified of losing their intangible material goods which were created in the unreal markets and are now collapsing faster than you can say banking secrecy.
Took a break from Shakespeare today. The fucking bastard refuses to let me go. It is like suffering from Asberger syndrom. You get totally obsessive.
Stubit questions like “What is man” pop into your head while you are doing something real – like watching football. It is very disturbing.
Could it be that Shakespeare, in his texts, is working on reflecting the human condition in all it’s complexity and beauty?
Or maybe it’s just bullocks!
I don’t belief in love. Especially not on stage. Love is a charade. A mask people try putting on to hide from the terror of being alone.
People that don’t like themselves.
I live in a hotel – in a single room.
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