“You do see me crossing the meadow.stiff and dead from the mist?.I long for that home,.that home I`ve never had,.and without any hope.that I`ll ever be able to reach it..For such a home, never touched,.I carry that longing that will.never die, like that meadow dies.stiff and dead from the mist..You do see me crossing it, full of dread?â€.― Robert Walser, Oppressive Light: Selected Poems by