His tickling mustache drew tiny pits on his bowed face; drops of sweat clung to the roaring Frederick's comet; he loaded his truck and knocked like a rhythmic chase into Infinity repeated to boredom! Only his beard could survive; it was just all your contacts! He carefully collected the contents of filled marmon cans as he did not throw anything out! The tragedy of forgotten football is the heart pounding!
 
The narcotic **** of the heatwave! Does your organization - not knowing - feel anything else; The road to Gyongyos Visonta is still very far back! Fifty years are barely past! He only shaved once in the mirror, and he always fought with the feeling of lack found! She has a beard! He never gave his dignity to anyone! - The tomb has been covered for decades; the October wind blows memorable obituaries! Whoever knew him could always listen to his wise advice!
 
I wonder what happened to the truck and the house; already in every perishing and even the tiny strands of idyllic childhood must be gathered together as truly precious True Beads! And as we inhale the yellowish scent of memories, we are also overwhelmed by creepy restlessness! "You are now looking at this ever-bustling army of ants from above, and you are shocked by the chaos that some have been able to get here!" Many times I still listen to his laughing laughing in my harassing mind; silent silent tears start on children's faces one by one…