Book: A report from a noose around his neck

Hope fall softly and gently as withered leaves. People with lyrical soul at the sight of falling leaves sometimes become depressed. But the tree doesn't hurt. Everything is so natural, so easy. The winter prepares for itself, and man, and tree.

He came to Nazism, hoping for an easier life. It turned out to be more difficult than he imagined. Since then, he has lost the ability to laugh. He put a bet on Nazism. It turned out that he bet on a dead horse. Since then, he lost his temper. At night, walking in soft shoes in the prison corridors, he was automatically left on the dusty shades of the traces of their thoughts. "Everything went in the outhouse" - poetically wrote it with a finger and contemplated suicide. Day goes to him and prisoners and colleagues, he yells a shrill, broken voice, hoping to drown out the fear.

People, I loved you! Beware!