Empty years

Played chess all day yesterday.

As long as I had some light.

Getting used to the cold.

 

Most importantly: I’m getting used to the wooden board I sleep on.

Must have slept through half the night after a rough hour or two.

Started playing self invented theater pieces and wrote a poem.

Jens Thieme poem "leerjahre" from his book: 'Kopfgeburt'.

Jens Thieme poem "leerjahre" from his book: 'Kopfgeburt'.


Stomach cramps from the hunger.

Or is there a bug coming on?

No guards showing up.


Haven’t seen daylight in a week.

Haven’t smelled fresh air either.

But I kept my fighting spirit up.


Workout after breakfast.

Theater and chess.

Workout at night.


It’s the new routine.

In a locked-away life.

Forgotten by the world.