education. Of course, this is only their perception of the world and it can be stated that they are simply unlucky enough to touch the reverse lower primitive side of others, overflowing the vessels of patience, coordinate changes in their usual life take place. Circumstances. Cross it out.
“I slammed it shut. Is it easier? Better one. What do you want from me? Threw. That’s all. It hurts. Yes, I want to cry so much from my strength. Doubt? Laughing? I don’t understand when you don’t want to offend me. I want peace and understanding. Do you remember when you said that I was a child for you who settled inside you? So where are you? One. Yes, stupid. I’m good, right? Like the ocean I can embrace tenderly to the point of silence, to trembling in the knees, but inevitably comes a period of storms, dagger showers, with a hurricane wind, and it is better to hide from my rigidity. Yes, fool. I still fight with mills, I know that this is a dead end. I howl quietly at the moon, drowning in the wet wipes of my own grievances. Night. I will go swimming under the races, flirting with the power of the endless pampered. The ocean loves me. Warm pillows to you. Don’t listen to me strange, I just missed your unshaven cheek so unbearably. Come, do you hear?”
Soothes?
Hush, hush, snuggle up. Soothes? Billions of immersions into your own fictional reality, often accepting other people’s rules and immersing yourself. Swiss scientists publish funny short essays about the myth of the intelligence of the individual as he grows up. Actions, decisions, thoughts, the imaginary necessity of needs set the speed of the environment, the selected projects with immersion in the creation of a cell, their own kind, a tree, buildings. The methods of a series of accelerations are different only at a glance, slowly, bit by bit, systematizing the ongoing actions, content, for analysis, peeling off the features of regions, costs, customs and a couple of other factors, in the remainder – the frightening monotony of human roads. Similar blows against a light bulb in the dark, billions of scorching actions, but not changing the essence globally. Most of them are tormented by a strange run of survival with turns that last from 6 to 7 decades. Managing to dissolve into each other to madness, tirelessly imposing their own invented pictures of the perception of the ball, offering to participate in long-term collaborations. Counting down hundreds of hours, growing up, stupidity sprouts, stuffed with fears, lagging behind from the rapid change of rules on the ball, with worn-out internal batteries, no longer hold more than eight, with the continuation in the night mad. Demonstration of a showcase with internal mannequins, squeezed in poses of feigned seriousness, puts some people around them into a trance of respect, admiration for the often naked. Only after 70, exhaling, looking behind the curtain of the meaning of stay, they put a vague reputation on a hanger. With the relief of filling with happiness, they plunge back into childhood, gathering in an armful grandchildren who are similar in perception, throwing off the feigned, realizing the short remainder, scooping up the lost joy of sparks, in fact, losing in past actions, in saturation with knowledge.
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