I don’t believe anything anymore. Not my „own“ thoughts, not my „own“ feelings. Whether full of confidence in the further way or displeased about the circumstances with the urgent desire to finally go home. Angry or full of universal love: from now on I only look at it and do not base my actions and my view on it. I have determined that it is not mine. I am none of it. It is a layer put on. A mask. I am empty and everything from the outside projects onto me. In the morning I feel the sadness and homesickness. Two days before Christmas on a Sunday. I get up, take a shower, and it’s all gone. Completely. It wasn’t from me. It was from the hotel or someone else. Brief spurts of hopelessness, driven, like flotsam and jetsam. Then blissful confidence again. Someone is blessing me right now or thinking of me in sorrow. Everything comes from the outside. I am empty. Even my handling of direct experience depends on what is currently being projected onto me. Yes, what is it then, what „I“ am? What is it then that makes up the observer? If there were nothing of influence on the outside, then what would be there behind the mask, behind the screen?… How invisible do I have to make myself in order to experience this? Am I happy, sad or angry: none of this must have relevance for my thoughts and actions, because it is not true. A difficult story is this….