A piece of paper

AS it will rain soon, hopefully, the rain is full of blessings. I rarely watch television and read newspapers lately, whether there is any news in other parts of the world there. I do not know, nor do I want to know, I do not believe any media.

Previously I often watched the news of the world in the middle of the night, but the source of the news was heavy; cannot be trusted. Instead of watching donkey news, it's better to watch home shopping of breast fasteners and mating season at Nat Geo Wild.

Finally, it rained heavily, and the lights went out. I sat down with a friend. He speaks of iron beds, mosquito nets, and a little innocence, which in our language is called eskondel njotnjot. To assemble a story, we have to hear, see, and even experience it. I'm interested in the story of an escondel. So far I've collected dozens of stories of small pieces of escondel.

For one thing, the number of my friends is very limited. I do not know who limit it; me or them. The figure of a real friend is like a piece of recipe paper. Centuries of doctors are trained by patients to prepare recipes. Patients will complain sincerely if they have not been taken seriously, before grasping a piece of paper that contains graffiti that only the pharmacist can understand.

As soon as the electricity is on, I go home and reread The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera, until my eyes get tired. While the rain out there is getting bushy. While Fur Elise, Kiss the Rain, Kitaro, Recuredos de la Almbra continue to flow until Romance Francis Goya.

Fantasy forms an idea; the idea of conceiving a framework; and a friend-shaped frame. Her name is Lolita, my placebo friend. Everything that is seen is a holistic design, except He is All-Seeing.