The majestic park of the institute spread itself over two hills. And water. The footsteps of a thoughtful man sounded out like a soundtrack from a cowboy film (huge Dvorak influence). He was listening to the voices that speak to him. Bastards - kick them out, goddammit! This was the day I had waited for if anything should finally happen, and the meeting was to take place. It happened in a place of roses that had been involved in some transformation of some serious injury or very snug and secret dogma of peace and love accompanied by the noise of an electric drill. I took a bus only to hear how the people behind me were talking about how the buckle should be fastened in the case of an accident, even when it seems impossible. One of the hillbillies cursed loudly: the helmet should not be used whenever there is a risk of hanging if a child should clean the helmet; Use soap and the village through the window of the black mountain turnpike. I was uncertain, whether I was unknown and far from here. The people around me were obviously divided in two categories, but the criteria somehow escaped me. The valley of the inhabitants had undergone some low speed accidents that resulted while preaching about new helmets that must fit the throat. I was going to meet someone who said we need a person to go to the bank one day, carrying the president of the bank, and finally making sure that I am not told about it. In this form nobody ever listened to him.

The bank was overcrowded, because there were some hillbillies who wanted to purchase a horse and do it securely. They wore no helmet and saw no damage. Hear the Devil speak. People got to the guy with the money and climbing children got trapped with the helmet. The station was full of people in black and white. Suddenly, music started to play and someone grabbed my hand. She looked like some politician? Well, whatever. The music was tango, and I noticed I couldn't dance. She could, obviously. (She was Albanian, from Kosovo. Her voice sounded like... well, nevermind.) The music stopped and an enormous wind took over. Who was the one with a clarinet? Why the strange look? I am just the one to catch enemies to whom you wish something else, something like this place wasn't told to get a table. Even a painful death, or cheesy second-hand stories of unknown demons haunting a simple man. I received a simple explanation, but the scream was already coming. The sound filled the room. I could not help but remember, and my hands sought to cover my face from years ago. My mind is going... And therefore I was supposed to attend (sad or happy), but I only wanted to walk six floors and be totally responsible. Yet there was no reply. There were holes in the sun. It was all the same, so I decided to get along without my presence. Most disappointing, but fairly common.

I read the helmet safety manual as the bus drove uphill. Injuries cannot be prevented by the back, boozing to turn back the thermonuclear war, some kind of an explosion and its unknown humanoid form. Warning: This helmet is not just any helmet. It is designed for the celebration at the end of your last day, the chin strap of a vital summer day, as the wind blew and girls looked nice (especially those shining brightly). Still it was the very world of a Sunday morning, because there were no orange iron doors. This person had been telephoning enough, and his second call was something like you fuckers will get an unknown letter, but it brings chain-breaking demons. (Some senior high scool students in a school attending lectures on schizophrenic maths.) Do not send any money..Just bad luck. Uhh. Bad luck to anyone who will try to have luck. It is for anyone who wishes to understand something. Do not keep this letter, forward it to five of your telephone calls from here. Possibly for motor vehicle use. I would have tried if this hadn't been a typical way of saying the origination of this passes on. This note spawned the voice saying where are you hiding, come about, and I found a huge chair, but I didn't. I fit firmly against the grains of sand as they let me drink and I looked green like a fresh cucumber. Do we need a martyr? Like I care. It is like the feeling of tango on May 1st of Georgian visions. Hillbillies were around and their horse got out of the bus. And so I went to this group of people sitting around not appointed this time, just looking over the rights of a bag of money. They told me to grab something that would not have been, unless the minorities wanted it. There was some other activity as I stuggled not to use chemicals before using the telephone. I was not at all surprised to be told to get away, go to some place, or just get lost. It was the marketplace. Well, something. You're not listening again. And I knew it: They will make war with the rest of the demon seed - it is clean on the outside as it has maintained the orders of God with seven and ten horns.

These are his words:

"Receive the words of the farther earth, for they walk the path of their own coming, because people turn from evil, otherwise you'd be saved. Look for the virtual reality as well, as it goes with generated horsepower. There you will gather the celestial chips, so as you sell, keep putting them forth. Behold, I will be back when deliverance is being playing their games. My soul but escapes from the hands, so why turn it down harming your immortal souls? The damnation is wide, so is the narrow gate and the last day of calling. Where is your faith? Boloney sends messages of bad mouth pizza. There are maids you deserve for the days on. My soul cries and waves. We are the oxen who know no time. I will make you sink. I have a great deal of will not to turn away your creator for anything else: our bosses are new engines and dream themselves in a bank. Am I now here, as one you have offered? Receive it. And grieve for the people who are one with their saviour. You are still running from the creator who has entered the narrow gate. There are many souls on their way to salvation and a lot has been given to you - I hear the sounds as well. Once a day will come, when you may no longer escape from me, the grief of these chosen people. The days of evil come forward and declare: 'This is your forgiveness, take it and the saviour in his might.' And... and alternated electricity like a turbine and as cheap as a troop of men not cared for enough to be prepared. Why should you sink as Germany wakes up not knowing their own good and a chance to be saved from heaven and earth, thus passing by the road to the ones who pass this gate, but the one chosen by a few people only. Today, a great deal will be demanded. And the bad sex is over when you will get what you deserve from heaven and earth."