Surely everyone who reads me see me as someone more depressed than optimistic, but it's true, is impossible to write something in conditions when one feels good or happy.
And in the end, if life is a game, I am the Battleship Fleet aircraft carrier: an easy objective to achieve, but to sink is to be patient.
(And, of course, also bullets).
- You can not.
- Touched.
- Sorry ...
- Touched.
- Goodbye
- Touched.
- I do not want.
- Touched.
The alarm sounds, the light turns red. All your posts! The ship capsize. We have met! The walls reverberate. Sparks fly and flooded cellars. But the mask bow is impassible. His effigy is not changed, her face does not flinch, does not lengthen his shadow, her face does not scratch.
And although the ship has not yet been fully stabilized and apprentices are bailing water and plugging holes, the captain back on track and holding the pipe with his right hand bellows: It is our turn! Aim!
Water.
~ Photo-print caterpillar
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