Character: Simon. Page 3

In the brain, as always, swarmed millions of thoughts, from which it is quite impossible to extract at least one standing. The kind you can finish, put in order, put in shape ideas and implement.

In the dream, always more concerned with the little things: an unnatural color of the grass, the impossible curvature of its direct or distorted reflection, and a real danger, ready to end it here and now seems a trifle.

Of course, the simplest explanation is, as always, nothing at all explains!

Until there are some facts, to speculate is not worth it.

But I wonder how simple human need to repel the desire to think, to strive for something.

A fleeting vision, as a reflection on the glasses rainy autumn evening, which makes turn around and you gaze long enough into the darkness to seek out there's something flickering on the edge of the field of view. Of course, you had to consider, not had time to understand, but somehow it seemed so inviting...

- Arise, and vizhd, and give ear... Oh, I don't like prophets and fortune tellers! How to blurt out anything in your address and then you walk like a fool, thinking about what he had in mind. Sometimes such fears themselves head and share, but actually complete nonsense ugh, not worth the attention!

To drink, you can, [Anton] if you really need. Only need to drink vodka. Brandy wine is all heart.
- And vodka for what?
- For the soul. If you really really really hurts.

Not seen a dead body - do not rush to bury.