published by Dodho magazine

VLADIMIR: WELL? SHALL WE GO? 

ESTRAGON: YES, LETS GO.

THEY DO NOT MOVE. 

S. Beckett – Waiting for Godot

…we know, long time, even though, but time is up, the whole world will not save us from the time of Godot, which is close and vague, implicit, out of voice, itching, and harlotry, all life gushes out the skin, then a temptation without a body, although unknown, not accurate, and we have continued in silence and laugh at the time, in the mist of the notes and epaulettes, commanders, without fear or dust beneath the ABC of the world – we will play a crescendo of white noise and the anthem, it is dangerous to stand, not keeping a silence, even lying is useless, but letters – they didn’t create a time, took over the novels and letters, no meaning, no malice of law would have failed tomorrow, yesterday – useless, clearly, we believe in the madness, gambling, and hat, easy birth without a cry, immortality, faith, reason, and there are always unknown, foreigners, war, heroic epics, gloss, and happiness, but while we talking, despite the terrible noise and quiet of ash, our wind up with a loop and funny report, and grinder with banker are trading by word, dream, and fire, and we disappeared over the pit as if we are saved, but in case with a lady, although the road with the ravine is almost impossible, but was attempted to get by the word, and needless to say, – gold, in vain, have defused the canons, but humans…