If taken together and interpreted a certain way, these poems may paint the picture of an individual who is discovering that depending on external validation is a dead-end; the small moments and aspects of ourselves we learn to treasure are what matters.
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"I can't open my eyes / to watch the fluttering ring of lies (...) I can't move opinions / if the thoughts are fake."
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"It was observed during his mock trial that he was distracted though the accusations made against him demanded no response. Nevertheless, he seemed somewhat absent from the proceedings, and if his lips moved, he said nothing."
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Leipzig elements woven into a tapestry pattern of a Germanophile literary reader – a maze of well-combined imagery.
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