Of the pleasures and pains of opium much has been written. The ecstasies and horrors of De Quincey and the paradis artificiels of Baudelaire are preserved and interpreted with an art which makes them immortal, and the world knows well the beauty, the terror, and the mystery of those obscure realms into which the inspired dreamer is transported. But much as has been told, no man has yet dared intimate the nature of the phantasms thus unfolded to the mind, or hint at the direction of the unheard-of roads along whose ornate and exotic course the partaker of the drug is so irresistibly borne. De Quincey was drawn back into Asia, that teeming land of nebulous shadows whose hideous antiquity is so impressive that "the vast age of the race and name overpowers the sense of youth in the individual", but farther than that he dared not go. Those who have gone farther seldom returned; and even when they have, they have been either silent or quite mad. I took opium but once—in the year of the plague, when doctors sought to deaden the agonies they could not cure. There was an overdose—my physician was worn out with horror and exertion—and I traveled very far indeed. In the end I returned and lived, but my nights are filled with strange memories, nor have I ever permitted a doctor to give me opium again. The pain and pounding in my head had been quite unendurable when the drug was administered. Of the future I had no heed; to escape, whether by cure, unconsciousness, or death, was all that concerned me. I was partly delirious, so that it is hard to place the exact moment of transition, but I think the effect must have begun shortly before the pounding ceased to be painful. As I have said, there was an overdose; so my reactions were probably far from normal. The sensation of falling, curiously dissociated from the idea of gravity or direction, was paramount; though there was a subsidiary impression of unseen throngs in incalculable profusion, throngs of infinitely diverse nature, but all more or less related to me. Sometimes it seemed less as though I were falling, than as though the universe or the ages were falling past me. Suddenly my pain ceased...
Zmones saka: as esu klaunas. Klaunas yra klajunas tas ar kiti vaikstantys tetrai. As esu homikas ir tuo didziuojuosi homosapiensas homikas kuris juokauna per muzikos kanala whizzz kaledu dvasia
Viskam galima atleisti. As jeigu kitam gyvenime atgimciau Jezum, atleisciau ir tam Benui. Jis nezude panu noredamas pasantykiauti. Ji isvare viena ir kita ir jis kol salta nenorejo buti bomzhas. Jis norejo valgyt, gulet, googlint, o ne plest&prievartaut
Biat Einaras nesitikejau B2-D4 zmogus humoro jausma irgi turi! Aciu brolau. Su pirato ir klouno paveiksleliais ant draze vakar man taip juoka supurtei. As aisku juokiausi is saves. Priessventinis nuotaikos pakelimas rudu nuotaiku padangeje
Legenda byloja, jog LT vienas ciuvas ant kito parase mesla ir pavadino "dalbjbu laivas", tas kitas pasirode didele shyshka ir prasidejo teismai. Tai zmogus X ar misteris Z ar panele Y ar as nesam dideles shyshkos tad be teismu smelio dezej - kas kaip
Zmogus X nori kad as visa musico rasliava perkelciau i notebook, rodyciau tik sau. Bet jei as permesciau ir galvos turini. Grafa vadintusi Zmogus X silentisto gyvenime, tai blyn teismai prasidetu. Ka as tau padariau per 10metu, kur irodymai, smeizikas!!
Atsakymas: dirbt is sirdies, diena nakti, nebutinai su apciuopiama pridetine verte kurk, bet is sirdies, mazu kazkas gausis ir aprupinsi savo atzala. Arba ne.