Loneliness has struck many times, even if it was a chronic, unexpected heart attack, in the catacombs of subconscious existence something may have happened once before birth; as if in the mutual exhibitionist role-playing that is now spreading like wildfire in the World, most people have been reduced to mere petty, corruptible tools by the weight of everyday life.

He clings uselessly between the gaps of seconds, because the persistent guilt of lives clothed in bodies pursues him for an entire mortal eternity. The stubborn-childish resistance that was called persistent has long ceased to exist in rebellious hearts: the time of nothingness has now come, he has been able to viscerally learn the nature of his chains that bind him in a tangle during his manhood dressed as an old man, the trap of vanities surrounds his conscious perpetrators.

Because almost everyone has known for a long time what stupid flock-admiration and love are good for, it is still easier for brainwashed sheep-betov to submit the formulas for sunken budget deficits. Late wills cannot yet prove the unfair judgment of a deliberately forgetful, stupid posterity. Stepping on nothing, fate will sooner or later only be fulfilled.

Now cosmic nuclear barking dogs are barking at a frantic pace in the corridors of the Zhivág wind; unconscious drunkards, ready to stagger, wander among dead souls, even false prophets give up the idyllic illusion-weight of memories, among the troubles of historical incompatibilities, we should be plucked like tadpoles among profit-devouring predatory fish, powerful sharks. Who was the hired hand and who was the lying subject?! In their squinting eyes, a false sympathy, a malicious gloating, a narrowing suspicion all at once growls; nothing and no one can be rock-solidly certain anymore. To sense the telepathic, visceral loathing, like a malicious, nauseating ***** odor.