die irrtümer des arztes sind mit erde bedeckt

Sitting in the waiting corridor, a lot of people passing by. The counter displays are constantly beeping. It feels a bit like a hospital. It is rather quiet, but there is a subliminal restiveness everywhere. Every few beeps I look at the display to wait for my number - 68 - to appear.

A strange situation. I am not sad, it is just a strange mood of sentimentality. Here, everything started. And everything ends. This is the third time that I am here since beginning my studies. There was no reason to go there more often.

And now, my time as an undergraduate is over. I should feel more mature now. But with maturity comes realism. And with realism comes pessimism.