Seemingly this short inapprehensible instant is nothing but an auto-reversible mistaken mirage. The design was thought to work for the good, but the clumsy attempt of the user’s failed. It should be as easy as completing a mission that is engraved in the genes, read the text of the manual and follow the directions; believe me it is all there… You took a decisive step into the porcelain shop, big elephant prints were left behind, and now you hide from inquisitive eyes surreptitiously. There is no minor crime escaping unpunished, for more that you try getting out on tiptoes. The swaying works as wise mechanism, inclinations ate your free will. I see how it works and I refuse to imitate, that is not to learn, that is failure before start. Jumping on the trampoline makes no better than a round on the Russian roulette. The ceilings are far away from being high blue skies, but there it goes on, jumping, jumping in the border of a cliff, feeling free, healthily sick. That minuscule glade on the mountain of yours is enclosed with a sparking bramble, sooner or later will reduce you to a cinder for the lack purity. Why are you so reluctant to relearn and unearth the buried treasure you were so fortunate to be born with? You behave like a suicide victim who is digging his own grave; you lose consciousness so often in the name of social recognition that your body floats in a lake of polluting oil spills. Why is the cure searched for in foreign agents when all the solutions emanate from your private source of invisible wealth? B_Nour
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