This Easter, which I had not even mentioned the existence, walking Guildford, debauched than usual, I was forced to stand facing the sun for thirty minutes say thirty. For thirty minutes I say thirty fake free, I've played in front of me the same party who can do very well without all the ordinary, reassuring neuro-healing activities. Sitting in the little bar, invaded by the sun, I abstract, I am painted man without being a father, or lover, or loved.
A pretty little blue-eyed children who were around, waving Appendices to mimic a greeting, I apostrophe with a toothless "Hi!" I opposed the yellow cover of one of my strong points.
I added another brick to the impenetrable wall that I built for some time. I fought them with blows of reason, those of their threatening gestures. Miraculously, they succeeded, for those few minutes, to blend in with that one uniform yellow-Springer, a granite block to be only logical abstraction. And flights of fancy! What a sweet taste you feel in this state of ecstasy! Unless before falling to the ground when the sun is hidden behind the palace. The magic faded, I realized that this freedom is all artificial how pathetic. The most vicna being free I did today was listen for three times, the Soft Machine .
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