Trainspotting (Trainspotting) (№ 63847)

On this day died not only child. Something in Cipollone went deep inside and never returned. It seemed that he was not theory to explain what happened. Me too. The only thing we could do in response was to drop everything and go on. Kneading sorrow, to pour it in a spoon and dissolve it with anger. Then squirt it into a stinking purulent vein, and continue in a new one. Not to stop, to stand, to leave, to Rob, to steal, to obdurate people, pump yourself with sorrow waiting for the day when over Lafayette. Because no matter how much you stash, or how much you steal; you never have enough. No matter how often you go to someone to Rob and cheat. Every time you have to get up and continue in the new.