By the age of thirty, with only a year left, he was slowly approaching, and the selfish pity of self-pity is still on the verge of restlessness. Like a hermit from Tutyimutyi, like a prisoner stuck in a cell, to whom the majestic taste, air and atmosphere of Freedom is a burden and an irreplaceable message!

A self-digesting fleshy wall, a scoop with the hopeless trials of Arthur-headed Sisyphus, he could always just try the unknown nature of things! I sent a message with deliberate, conscious fear, I escaped myself in the ruins of days, every day and finally I just got into the rotating uncertainty: Moments of fortune left you all, maybe deprived of some secret confidence, maybe permanently deprived of it!

I have not wasted the precious and precious time given down here. I still stare at Glorious tear-stars, I would have tried to find out the small secrets of my personal vulnerability.

To preserve with a susceptible and selfless soul ultrasound itself, as a seismic radar, it detects the telltale traces of molasses: S while he comforts and helps as a mother; while I do: I wash the dishes, I bake and cook, and I kiss his blessed fragile hands with the thick waterfall of my tears!

And you have not yet learned enough in the crossfires of so many conscious ordeals, bone-breaking paw turns! - In your shelter that protects the security of your home, you listen more and more desperately with your melancholy-numbness to the mortal and tormenting countless minutes of the gift: The grotesque story of every click, lost, or inaction of your life.