Everyone walking on the street has their own life. If they can hear it, they are all talking to themselves, self-pity and narcissistic confession. When the soul lives in the body, people are anxious and hesitant, but when the soul flies out of the body, there is only a desolate thoroughness and a desperate loneliness.
Angels watched lonely and pitiful among the clouds as we walked on the earth, like the occasional moment when our own souls were out of our bodies.
When it is thorough, it is also alienated, so I envy that kind of passionate obsession even more. So angels want to be human, just like when we are accustomed to observing the world without emotion, we are more eager to join them, have a glass of wine together, and discuss gossip about a certain star together. Gossip and gossip, when deeply immersed in the world, the unreality will become real again, as if life was originally like this. Zhuang Zhou dreams of a butterfly, is Zhuang Zhou a butterfly, or is a butterfly Zhuang Zhou? We are sometimes angels, sometimes human, with two contradictory faces for no apparent reason. When we are human beings, we want to be angels who dialysis the world, and when we are angels, we yearn for the warmth of human beings.
So Under the Berlin Sky is so close to our state of being in this world, so warm, as if a lonelier soul is kissing our forehead when we are alone. Angels love us, and angels are lonelier than we are.
Life is short when it is said to be long, and long when it is said to be short. Walking in the world, one will always live in obsessions. Zhuang Zhou will never know whether he is a butterfly or Zhuang Zhou, and we will never know whether we are an angel's soul living in an animal's body, or just the product of the movement of atoms, we are lost under the Berlin sky, like that Lonely, looking for an angel.
To live is to be on the road all the time, or to be hovering under the sky of Berlin.
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