Book: Dens, dens, dens. Page 3

I'm a completely alien body. Neither this city nor this everyday I did not belong.

A delicious Breakfast is a special celebration in life.

Its own system of thinking - not a bad thing, but if for it all the time to cling, and the forehead hurt himself.

Who likes to cut corners, he is stopping traffic.

Would the goal is set - a chain of trial and error leads to the desired result...

I used to think people grow up year by year, gradually so... And he wasn't. People grow instantly.

People to continue to be the same all the time adapt to each other in the details...

- Dance, ' said the Man-Sheep. - While the music - keep on dancing. Don't you understand? Dance and do not stop. Why dance - do not argue. What's the point - not to think. Still not, and never was. Think - stop legs. And if you ever stop feet - there's nothing we will be able to help you. All your contacts with the world around will break. Forever cut short. If that happens, you will be able to live in this world. Gradually you will tighten it this far. So no way to his feet stopped. Even if everything seems stupid and pointless - never mind. The rhythm watch and keep dancing. And then something that you haven't completely hardened, begin to slowly dissolve. You must remain still uncured Islands. Find them, use them. Squeeze himself like a lemon. And remember: there is nothing to fear. Your biggest competition is fatigue. Fatigue and panic from exhaustion. It could happen to anybody. Will seem that the whole world is wrong. And legs begin to stop themselves...
I raised my head and stared at the giant shadow behind him.
And there is no other way, ' continued the Man-Sheep. - Definitely need to dance. Moreover, dance is very cool and nothing else. So everyone looked at you. And only then we may be able to help you. So - dance. While the music plays - dance.
WHILE THE MUSIC PLAYS DANCE...

There are people who are my inner normality attracts. Such people are very few, but they exist. Every such man and I - just two planets that are floating in the dark space towards each other, drawn by some super-natural force, come together and also naturally fly, each in its orbit. These people come to me, come to me in a relationship - only to one day disappear from my life forever. They become my best friends, lovers, and even wives. Some even manage to become my antipodes... But it would not have formed, the day comes and they leave me. Someone disillusioned, someone desperate, who - without saying a word (just tap without water - even roll, you can't get a drop), they all disappear.

Only way it could begin with talking about yourself. With this first step. You need to talk. And as long as possible. If not - we will understand then...

The time will come to understand - understand.

In my house - two doors. One input, another output. On the other way. In the entrance not to go; with no way to go. This is it. People come to me through the entrance and leave through the exit. There are many ways to go and many ways to go. But all go. Someone has gone to to try something new, someone not to waste time. Someone died. Left - no one. In my apartment - not a soul. Am I the only one. And, left alone, I will always be aware of their absence. Those that left. Their jokes, their favorite buzzwords spoken here, songs that they purred under his breath - all this is settled all over the apartment strange phantom dust, which is why it distinguish between my eyes.
Sometimes I think maybe that's exactly what THEY've seen how I really am? Seen - and therefore came to me, and therefore also disappeared. Seemed to have convinced my inner normality, were verified sincerity (in other words not pick up) my attempts to stay normal and on... And, for his part, tried to say something to me, reveal to me the soul... it was Almost always good, good people. Just me they had nothing to offer. And if there was - they still lacked. I always tried to give them from himself, as best he could. All that could tried. Even expecting something in return... Just no good at it. And they left.
Of course, it was not easy.
But it is even harder - every one of them left this house even more lonely than came. Like to get out of here, you need to lose something in the soul. Cut, erase completely some part of me... I knew these rules. Strange - whenever they went, it seemed as if they turned into so much more than I... Why is it so? Why am I always alone? Why all my life I have only pieces of other people's shadows? Why the hell not?! I don't know... Lack of data. And as always - the answer is impossible.

Do not plug the ears - that it itself will give voice. Not samurovi eyes - what you need, the very seem.

Whenever you lose something, you opened another hole. And each such hole you plugged something instead of lost. If the label was put on the memory... And just do it. You filled those holes that was supposed to leave inside. And over and over again was just washing myself... Why? What made you do it?