The rabbit was at a crowded party. Everyone was very nice to her. People show all their good intentions to someone they sense will die anyway. In the most uncontrolled drop of alcohol she was no longer there. She was looking for her identity.
Sometimes our commitment to life; It is as necessary and unhurried as the relationship between the cancer patient and the bed. Moreover, your consciousness is so dull that you cannot be sure if you are dreaming all those dreams or they are dreaming of themselves. They, too, will roll desperately like a sound thrown into the void and disappear, breaking into you.
Yes it was a happy party, bunny. But nobody was moving their own soul.
Complexity was looking for itself in all nightmares of disorder and chaos.
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CEREN YUZGUL 