Book: Invisible. Page 1

You are not able to escape from the world, as well as not able to answer for the way you look, whether you're incomparable beautiful or really ugly.

What you are at one time or another, is just a fragment of history.

And now you again tell me your story. And then again and again. Are you going to repeat the same thing throughout the night. And then you'll know that everything is just a story. The story of the past. Realizing that your trouble has become empty words, you can easily spit on all that was, and to forget about this. And then calmly decide what you want to be.

There is only one path to finding true happiness is to take the risk to be fully disclosed.

Evie believes that beautiful people can not twist each other's novels. Together they make on others as such an overwhelming experience. Evie is sure that the valuation standards of beauty immediately refracted, if two attractive people are close by. You feel it immediately, says Evie. When both lover's beautiful, none of them no longer looks beautiful for real. Together as a couple - they are much less than if it were two separate pieces.

Sister Catherine belonged to the category of people who constantly carry a wedding ring.
And was sure that the answer to all questions is love.

With some people it happens sooner, other later - by chance or by law of gravity, but we all end the same. Turn into freaks. Most women know the feeling: when with each passing day, becoming more and more invisible.

A shot at anyone in this house is the moral equivalent of killing a car. Or cleaner. Or Barbie dolls. It is comparable with the destruction of information on computer disk. With the tradition of the book of fire. Probably the same way we can consider any act of murder committed in any part of the globe. We all almost indistinguishable from products generated by civilization.

Brandy was driving on a speed that is permissible only at two-thirty the night in an open sports car with a loaded rifle inside and drugged out hostage in the trunk.

People sit at home watching TV. Or do a TV, if you believe in God.

I never eat anything advertised on TV.

And then you realize that now this is all just a story. The story of the past. Realizing that your trouble has become empty words, you can easily spit on all that was, and to forget about everything.

- Show me passion, baby! shouts the photographer.
Flash.
Show me anger!
Flash.
Show me detachment, ennui existentialist.
Flash.
Show me a raging intellectual, as a way of survival in this world.
Flash.

I saw my blood, snot and teeth splashed on all
the dashboard the moment after the accident, but hysteria is impossible without an audience. Panic in solitude is like laughing alone. I feel very, very stupid.