There I knew in the ruins of the devastating crises that I'm going to hate the other half of childhood... one wool sweater is hardly enough to befriend the winter, you are going to look for warmth in a novel, you will escape your reality by creating an imaginary one. As for dreams you won't find enough space for it in a muddy house, with 7 other dreamers in it... they don't even use each other's names; since the name was transformed into a number, they share signs when necessary only... pain requires to be felt, but what we get from this vile world is the pretense that everything's fine while we ignore the pain...
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