High.
Employs me with lyric, schamanismus and philosophy. I read also Immanuel Kant, Carlos Castaneda and Friedrich Nietzsche, like to hear Luke Vibert, Aphex Twin and Cylob. Possibly, I establish a philosophy-book.

You make me happy if you suffer, because without the tragedy, the mankind doesn't develop any hope.

The weather announced rain, however it already was an evening late as I met a heroin-junkie. He asked about my deciding, got a lie and me as an escort. He asked where I go. I didn't had any goals. We talked during the goes. We strolled through the darkness, but not alone, the search of sense accompanied us. Then, he stopped and got out his age-silverware. He put everything on the wall. Before my eyes, he splashed himself his dinner. At least it worked so as Age is everything, which he takes to himself. But he took not only heroin to himself but me as well. He took me from pity opposite me, even took heroin from pity opposite himself. Then we went into the apartment of his buddy, that presses no more. The two ones felt pity and accepted me into their MULTIPLE RESIDENT APARTMENT. Besides the two ones, my girlfriend also lived there. She was attached also to the needle. Sometimes if it was too late, we didn't ring. We should be at home until at the latest 22 o'clock, because one goes to bed, by a dash of heroin, early. One would like to be awakened no more just there. One doesn't want to wake up and the tragedy is that just exactly the urgently necessary is, with the drug-consumption.