why leave, there is all in the head, sewing kit for the sores of me, silverware to treat unwanted guests who would break the harmony, the human condition does not exceed the Arc de Triumph feelings, it must be to understand that the hose is blocked when you put in the wrong direction, you must follow the arrow next without falling in the mud, it's really terrible to see people sink light far have nothing to hide, but who knows about, in the presence of their brown lawyer could they empty with a spoon the sea of the flesh, everything goes in gutter, nothing remains of the hope, you throw everything overboard by asking the sky that it does not rise to the next generation, but who to believe, the human kill themselves since Cro-Magnon, always rivalries sweep acid rain, when we die, others are born, where is the logic of this patchwork, the only common aspect of any creature, the microbe to the elephant, is to go from one place to another, without knowing why, people are progressing according to their destiny more or less kindly or cruelly