and now, alone among your roses, rosary. a black sun like the first fifty of vodka so understand and forgive, father – knows how old and i kept deviating part of the brain that can be seen,
rosary. and in the morning when the sun is a talkative as a politician that, after a point, like a refugee hacked by dogs we, suicides, woke up each one of us near my poor body. then it is dreaming time’.