…It’s still raining. The birds are singing. The days are passing by. I go to Elizabeth, but I wake up with Biljana. Nothing is interesting; all is the same. My heart is skipping a beat again. The arrhythmia comes more and more often. The air feels like it is lacking oxygen. This is nothing else but a pre-heart attack. Does it matter that I know when I cannot help myself? Neither the tablets nor the plum brandy are helping me. How long is it to be like this? How long…?

From Drunken Democracy