Axe, Nivea, Adidas...

I doubt that the feared element
about hell is its extraordinary untolerable heat.
It must only be the excessive continious
sweat-smell of the people there, that kills.

Imagine there was no Time-Limit

The judge did not even look up at the monkey when he read his sentence. 19 months of home-work detention for the moneky in Donkeyland.
The monkey packed his stuff, leafed through the calender & found his release date, marked it and wrote in red, if I shall live to see this day, I shall comit suicide. For the monkey I will be then, is a lonely soul with no firends, no past & no future who will no longer know how to speak in Monkeyish nor Donkeyish.
The calender was closed, hopes drained & another soul gone to waste.
---
Setting your computer's date to two years later now might just be 2 clicks away
but knowing your life will be wasted & you must tolerate every torturing
moment of an imprisonment-like period for two years with no
improvements in your knowledge, bank account,... is way too much!

The space-suit feeling

It sometimes comes to me that death itself can be a more distant form of participation in the continuing history of the world. A simultanous presence and absence while the presidents take the same shameful decisions & friends go on giggling over someone who is no longer you. For a period in the space of time I can imagine what it will be like to be a ghost and walk forever through a silence deeper than silence, to apprehend but never quite reach the lights of home.