Closest to the meaning of life

It's summer and I'm writing a stage text about menopause with an actor. When we applied for writing support last year, I felt ready to work my way into this undercommunicated topic. I was also in love. Now I have love grief. I am angry, sad, jealous, jealous, even bitter. I also feel an incomprehensible desire and at the same time I feel old. Outside it is suddenly raining and suddenly sun and suddenly. . .



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