‘It was your son who left the place empty then?’ he asked. . I owe his mother one, and will repay the debt, with interest, to her son. ” “It is hard to be distant from your own mother. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 22-09-2024 08:52:24
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