but that I still have hope.

0lnwb791

Last night in my dreams,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], there is a sea. It is formed by the waves one after another, there is infinite power. Spray ups and downs, I am soul-stirring. I'm on a boat in the sea, water, food, and radio. People deceive me, by these things can reach the ideal place.
water and food is limited,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], so I must continue to drift.
waves surging down without a word, loud voice. I'm the most peaceful in the world ocean, but it also makes me dizzy. Waves slapped the boat along. I am standing firm. I was afraid of the sea, really want to jump ship to this life to end my drift.
Maybe I should not move toward the other side of my ideal, perhaps should not be out to sea. That'd be a smart thing to do. Strange and terrifying sea fish swam by, chasing a group of small fish. Fish leap forward in my boat. It was a gift from God.
drifting in the currents, it does not matter where I want to go and can not think I will go somewhere. Stability can only hold the rudder, the flow in the ocean along the sea-forward setting. So delicious fish, gave me great comfort. Fish looked at me and, encouraging the two gills. The seabirds screaming the sky, you want to know is how to handle this fish. Of course, I put it into the creel. Birds was gradually dispersed.
you see waves blossoming,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and gathered and then dispersed. They is not sympathize with my pain. I am really helpless. Boat only ten meters long. How much sea, I do not know. Wandering up and I took a knife to this life. But I dare not start. Because God said to me, is not dead in the sea than to die in their own hands pain. And I do not know heaven's door will not open to me. I put down the knife, looking at the boundless sea, began to listen to the radio. The radio that some people in this area. That means they'll be in my vicinity. I am excited to wave a handkerchief, to meet with them early.
but not seen. Even see. They are also the same with my Rangers. Will not give me much help. But their I summon the confidence.
So I am the only one, boats and creel in the smelly fish. I would like to meet a small island just fine. The sea islands like stars, but they left me was so far away.
some islands, grass, flowers. I may be able to live life on it. In fact,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], life is a day of luxury. I'm so down by the sea swallowed concerns. And I may be able to set foot on a Los Angeles Clippers, early return to the mainland.
I look forward to the emergence of the island. Finally, it appeared. But no one. I set foot on the island, the water bath in the creek.
This is life, I had to realize that life can be no pain,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], no loss, no loneliness,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], no ... ...
but I miscalculated. You think the world as well as No. I can set foot on this island, but that I still have hope.
So I decided to ship drift, drifting forward.
the relationship between man and reality, just as adrift in a strange sea. Previous: The only way to save the planet - Green Next: reflections on the toxic milk

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

The driver clambered into his seat, clicked his tongue, and we went downhill. The brake squeaked horribly from time to time. At the foot he eased off the noisy mechanism and said, turning half round on his box--
"We shall see some more of them by-and-by."
"More idiots? How many of them are there, then?" I asked.
"There's four of them--children of a farmer near Ploumar here. . . . The parents are dead now," he added, after a while. "The grandmother lives on the farm. In the daytime they knock about on this road, and they come home at dusk along with the cattle. . . . It's a good farm."
We saw the other two: a boy and a girl, as the driver said. They were dressed exactly alike, in shapeless garments with petticoat-like skirts. The imperfect thing that lived within them moved those beings to howl at us from the top of the bank, where they sprawled amongst the tough stalks of furze. Their cropped black heads stuck out from the bright yellow wall of countless small blossoms. The faces were purple with the strain of yelling; the voices sounded blank and cracked like a mechanical imitation of old people's voices; and suddenly ceased when we turned into a lane.
I saw them many times in my wandering about the country. They lived on that road, drifting along its length here and there, according to the inexplicable impulses of their monstrous darkness. They were an offence to the sunshine, a reproach to empty heaven, a blight on the concentrated and purposeful vigour of the wild landscape. In time the story of their parents shaped itself before me out of the listless answers to my questions, out of the indifferent words heard in wayside inns or on the very road those idiots haunted. Some of it was told by an emaciated and sceptical old fellow with a tremendous whip, while we trudged together over the sands by the side of a two-wheeled cart loaded with dripping seaweed. Then at other times other people confirmed and completed the story: till it stood at last before me, a tale formidable and simple, as they always are, those disclosures of obscure trials endured by ignorant hearts.