How much easier it would have been without the memory of the humiliated gymnastics, which, with the whipping of executioner ropes, haunted new targets every day with fear of death; only a few could understand the Truth of the present out of blood-soaked eyes! All human Judgments and murders could be measured against these only then; finally, every insidious glance was already a murderous thorn in our vulnerable hearts and we sobbed doomed to lonely orphanage like alamus, pathetic worms while we looked down at our own soul wells, gathering courage!
 
We could hardly hear that any of us had committed suicide because they could not bear the stigma-wounding evils of their bachelors! The writing campaigns also started with Executioner jokes! In a treadmill world, magnified evil also seems bigger, scarier! *****-smiled male pillars practiced slap-dancing times until the “others” could learn how to serve and pit at the same time ?! Washed, washed clothes also had to be reused, and the torn Budmilos bag cost a lot!
 
There could have been no pathetic chance for the Guardian to escape the apocalypse of everyday terrorist hells to Infinity! They were forced to tolerate the pain of the usurper as a lifeless object; the sentient Spirit was as much drained as the foreign matter from the tendons of skeletal bones!