Whereas in earlier times it was still possible to ask oneself about the meaning of life, nowadays the permanent distraction is perfect. Perfect, out of fear of the answer. Now there is a permanent reference to oneself. To the moment that is not to be followed by another. Especially not the last one. It is the utter despair that has created this distraction, filling every moment, to the last, in and through dead things. If the gaze does not turn to infinity and the moment is not broken open, then there will be no salvation, no healing, no security, no meaning. Then there will be no life. Because this present being, this is death.