Based on our timing, I don’t remember if it was possible to change things: Perhaps hard-won, blind-biased prejudices, cheap morals eroded the poetics of honest student faces: Ignorance is also affordable with knowledge! - perhaps a line of wise prophets hid and surrounded themselves, and the Truth could only listen in their hearts! And as a decipherable secret figure is a eloquent hieroglyph: Hopeless tangles and tears stretched out on people's faces.

that the myriad of literature, studies and books could all be futile tests of the ladder's knowledge! Maybe everyone was just waiting for the other, asking to have a confidential advocate, a beautiful testimony that they could still have the sure, happy “Few”. He was himself among the great colloquium and the rift

the unbreakable standstill: the voice of the prophets was heard by the Spirit at the time — yet elsewhere it could have been just the Essence — the Judgment has thickened into a judgment: Your voice, your physique tub, must go, so can you! The dynamic, overstretched air has made everyone nervously upset, ruined!

He saw and knew obligatory teaching materials in the crossfire of common sense and interrupted, inquisitional gazes, a torn redemptive moment. - And although we always cheered two steps ahead of Chess and Matt to be different - Our fate was still common, like the sword of Damocles (petty) hovering over our heads in a duel that could easily be sacrificed over our heads. I was a silent flint in combat and passive resistance,

and I may have been the sharpening dolomite of sabers. "From now on, the world lived from this, the barriers of common sense fell apart outside us," there was no repayable, retaliatory punishment, and punishment! At our feet, the trampled, ruined Beautiful Hopes were dying: None of us said, only the Silent, that the possible Tomorrow would dawn, according to our time.