I [Theme] Page 47

I don't always know what they are talking about, but I know that's right.

I collected the victories, but by the end of study from innocence I was separated by at least a dozen girls.

I know only one alchemy that gives the age of beauty: it is called feeling.

- I was never young. The Hitchcock as I was, died. Here's another example of the thorns of memory. I don't want to sit on them bare-ass, thank you. I always thought that die every day, and every day you waiting for a neat wooden box with your number on it. But you should never go back and lift the lid of the boxes and look at himself from the past. You die in my life a thousand times, and this is the mountain of the dead, and each time you die your way, with another face, which is all the time becoming worse. Because every day you're another, unknown person you do not know and do not want to understand.

I often think about the past. Especially now... this notice. In order to live, man needs the memories as fuel. Anyway, what memories. Expensive or worthless, important or ridiculous - they're all just fuel. The newspaper advertisement or philosophical treatises, dirty porn or ten banknotes to fire, in which they are thrown, it's all just paper. It would not be the fire blaze in different ways, saliva and then: "Oh, Kant's planted!" or "yeah, the evening news!" or "Wow, what Tits!" Fire everything... damn That's the same with our memories. Unnecessary, random, junk, disposable - everything will fit, but if the fire is not extinguished...

I am stuck in traffic. Heart beats calmly and evenly. I'm not alone. Locked in this trap, I can pretend that I'm just an ordinary, normal guy who goes home from work. My wife and kids. In your own home. I can pretend that my life is not painful anticipation of another disaster; that my life is something else. I know how to function properly. The other children play "hospital", "mothers and daughters", "store"; I'm playing the passenger who travels on public transport seasonal tickets.

I'm not mad. I'm not sad. I have long been not feel anything except physical arousal.

But how am I supposed to die? Is it possible that I just disappear from time?.. I've never seen the world differently, as enveloped my mind; and how can I leave without taking him with you? And even if they, the mountains, the houses, the sun (and I doubt it), will continue to exist in the minds of other people and for others it will have others, not these mountains, houses, the sun. All that stretches before me will disappear with me. Just as I close my eyes, and everything becomes dark.

I'll love you tomorrow, because today I'm not familiar with.

Not leaving a trace, go through someone's life vague shadow quietly.
And burn out the fire, without the right to later.
I'm in someone else's life a scar, I'm in someone's living spring,
And for someone a genius, for someone stump.
But it's not about you.
And in your life I'm just the shadow...

I know exactly
I'll be living I
And this is my revenge!

So I lived and died.

Okay, let my mistake to say until the human race exists. But give me the opportunity to fix it.

Be yourself. Other roles are already occupied.