Book: S. N. U. F. F.. Page 1

Life is too short and sweet drops of honey on our way not so much.

Yes, and we do not make excuses to anyone. Judge us or not, we are, unfortunately, the best that there is in this world. And so we believe not only we, but also the orcs.

It was a time of General decline and degradation, so the upper-middle Siberian invented stoned hacks-migrants from the shores of the Black sea, the salary which, as was customary in Aztlan, were given substances. They professed the cult of the Second Messiah and in his memory composed by upper-middle Siberian on the basis of Ukrainian idealisme, - but for some reason (perhaps under the influence of substances) fastened to it is very complicated grammar, wandering hard sign and seven days. And when he invented a phonetic system, added "ukania" - apparently, nothing else had not occurred.

Officially my job is called "operator live news". Tserkovnaya live here it would be more honest to replace "dead" - if you call a spade a spade.

Ninety-two. Of a woman's heart. From n*ZDY juice rises up and flies through the eyes of the worldly vanity and moving down. Meet in the middle of the chest, and boil together in a black substance that is the root of women's nature. From him the world all the anger and otchestvo, pain of heart, mrakobesie and longing. And not to interrupt that in any way, because a woman is attracted through the truth, as if to dispel the deception, it is immediately obvious that it does not need, and without it much better. This clarity her not to worry and see the truth the man does not give, as the hunt itself can not. Because lying all the time and suchestvuet, and she understands how messed up enough, but to do nothing, and from her eyes, longing and fear. But if to push to the wall and long to beat the face, then confesses, but I will say that without that stealth runs out life. True. Therefore the wise say that life is a swindle and black deception.

There are things that are true for one and wrong for another. Because of them, by the way, and there is hatred between people.

People in ancient times worked hard, and they had only a few hours a week to relax in front of the screen. Movie served to them by the encyclopedia of life. People took from the movie all their knowledge. Often it was their main source of information about the world. Therefore, if in the movie some people constantly portrayed as a bunch of killers and freaks, it really was news. But they were given for the movie.

They think they all bad, because the authorities Ran Konteks. Oh, poor you, poor things. Quite the contrary - it Ran Konteks in power, because you are all bad. And bad because it was yesterday and the day before, and after Monday and Tuesday always Wednesday of the same week. Well you liquidate your urkagany (along with the remnants of a full life, because the revolution is expensive), so what? Don't like the word "Konteks", so you will have some other Drax Latex. What's the difference? You will be the same...

You know, Damilola, this is such a difficult topic to speak about it in two ways. Either is correct, but unclear and difficult - and we will immediately get confused in psychoanalytic terms. Either it is incorrect, but understandably difficult, but clear and simple - and then we're gonna drown in the cynicism of the base class. Your choice?

However, where we, the pilots homeworkers, really? In their small rooms or Orc in the sky? Where is the sky around my "Hannelore" or in my brain, where it's broadcast electronic extensions of eyes and ears?
In her opinion the answer depends on what we call ourselves. If the body, we are in the room. If it is attention and awareness, we in the sky. But in reality, we are neither there nor here, because the body can not fly in the clouds, and the attention and awareness of nowhere to take without a body. And the answer to this question is simply no.

And about who is better - me or you, - I continued, - it's just a question wrong. You're no better and no worse. You're different. Other need to learn to accept the way it is in its self...

The party is a disguised social ring, microelisa where people come to relax, in fact everyone hides under clothing Gladiator gear. Everyone brings their own murky calculations and all night dancing to their tune, and not under "a different drum", as it carefully explains in the conversation. And now, after thousands of seemingly random movements, in the quaint lit aquarium, these colorful reptiles are woven with each other for mutual strictly proper eating and insemination way. What looks to the naive observer the entertainment was a never-ending struggle for existence, mixed with social ritual.

To say that the moon for many centuries, flying on some wild trajectory, it is possible persistently and convincingly, and links to her terrible, dead the story would be more appropriate. But the unofficial ban on mentioning other celestial bodies, the narrative will always miss some perfection - at least, in tracing causality...

He looked exactly like a loser, the sublimation of unsatisfied libido into a low-budget romantic drama - all in black, with bangs to the eyes, sisigam, shorn at the nape, and a tiny metal skulls on the left sleeve - all the latest youth-protest fashion.