Character: Natalia

It's not a system. It's people. It's me, it's us, it's you, it's everything. It's not a system. It's people. All people with every breath want to deserve the approval of cowardly crap. It is we who build on ourselves such systems, which we then resent. And there is no system in reality. Build yourself an idol and worship, build yourself a devil and throw everything on him. But the builder is one - we. There is no system, there is meanness. In me, in you, in everyone, in everyone. Embittered cowardly meanness, averting his eyes from his reflections and foaming at the mouth trying to earn an excuse. Approval to deserve, tick. Tick me, Mr. Investigator, that I am good. Pat me on the head and let me go. That's the "system."

- Why are you so sad? [fall to the ground]
- Why are you so happy about?
- It's nice to fall with an attractive woman.

"Why do you these stupid descriptions of a sick imagination defective deaf mute hysteric on invalid pensions, which can humiliate any ham only because he feels many times better than me because he hears?"
And as she nervously wrote, the characters became more and more promiscuous, just like becoming slurred voice of a man who cries, expressing resentment and despair. I remember I went up to her and pressed her to him. Then washed off with sponge and mirror its inscription and by the same token wrote for what to me these descriptions and how they are important to me. She clung to me, crying like a baby.

You still live in some ugly world. Natalia shook her head. World where money, power, position in society; in the world of babies. Relax! You went beyond that. Main no. We are all equal. Honestly fulfill its function - and you'll be fine.

And when I return, I will sit on your lap, put your hands on your shoulders and kiss your face. Centimeter by centimeter.

Suddenly so silently has become in my world without you.