The sky is cloudy and the horrible figures have been marching on the

gray and blank pages of it. The ominous music of the deadly bells has

been echoed in the country of my mind. I do not know who the bell ringer

is but I hate of him or may be her. You know, the psychologists accuse

me cruelty to the guilty of being crazy but I deny and call it a big

accusation. I know more than the others do but none of they know this.

The superstitious fun do not arise my spirit, do you think it is a sin. I
like not to be a bird but the spirit of it, why? Because the bird cannot

pass the clouds and reach to the sun but I wish to transcend the borders

of the damn life and reach, the bright sun which is the symbol of

uniqueness for me. I know that I will be burnt in this case but I enjoy of

burning in the flames of the only sun of my life. I hate of walking among

the earthy and green gardens and being with the creatures that only

know themselves human beings but don’t know the simple alphabet of it.

I feel disgusted of reading the scenarios of the men who pretend to be the
most devoted servants of God but hurt the others as easy as a b c. I do

not want to be the baits of the fishermen. I want to be a blind man not to

see the cruelty and unjust men. I want to be deaf not to hear the lie. I

want to be crazy not to understand the world of tricks.