the latter has not happened yet, but we do not want the former, there are too obvious that he has received everything he needed to be at the top, no vertigo, the first shall be last is reassuring, but how to be the ultimate truth, to be propelled into the top right opposite the toilet, a matter of method, first breathe regularly, then get up every morning with the casualness of the small end the last century when the ways of existence could be counted on the fingers of one hand, gentleman, worker, profiteers, have land and spend his days watching other people work to earn the black bread, but today, when the capitalism rhyme with anything, even when traders are the latter, even when I'm alive when a hundred years ago I was dead, a hundred or so years I'm dead, I do not know which way it works, the crank thought turns in the opposite direction of the hypothetical reality, the uncertain march in goose-step that is prepared for Christmas, the balls off of the misery updated every month, I wander to breathe, I swear by myself, without it making too much noise and anyway nobody listens to me, too much unnecessary noise, footsteps in the hallway, the assassin approached, the last minute before the plunge at 'upside is the chance encounter, be there at the right time, every minute pay offer its solution, stop number 1, not today, maybe tomorrow or in ten years time, it depends on the station master