CandyCactus’as

blaskiausi as gi po Hatay, ta buvusia Antiochija, kur ana savo laiku buvo labai svarbi, ir man biceliai kurdai vietiniai jaunuoliai sako, tai gi lendam i sita slapta tuneli. o as su kuprine didziule, kur as ten pralisiu tau, tai kaip ir i roju matyt su kuprinem neilendama.

kas per tunelis, ka manote? slaptas ir labai svarbus

ne, neimanoma visas idomybes surasyt, tai jus prasom surasykit, as tik klausimelius pametysiu, kaip tas butu?

Kas buvo per mergelike is Sirijos, katra per Kapadokija vare ir koki stebukla padare Gruzijoj,  kad ana Krikscionybe priemo?

internetas nuozmiai brangus ir letas, todel metam viska bilekaip, gal kaip ant kokio karavano bejudancio, vaikuciu sliures besimetancias, motociklais pavirtusius kupranugarius, mesu gabalus kabancius vitrinose, raudonas arafatkes visur, heliow lady, ken ai help ju, saukimas melstis, toks pats kaip ir turkijoj, tik cia is dar blogesniu garsiakalbiu, autobuse pats seniausias filmas su svarcnegeriu, menulis laiveliu pasivertes, vaikai uz skvernu griebia ir kisenes krausta, zenobia buvo ta karaliene palmyroj, ir as irgi karalienie, tik as akmenis valdau, niex nezino, keliavimo liudnuma uzejus siokia tokia, nes ir vel ner su kuo kalbet, akmenys tyli kaip klusnus vergai, o tu kur nevaldau, tai tik vyrai vyrai vyrai, o jiems as svieziena, kad ir su skara ant galvos seksualiausia moteris dykumoj, kaip is tom ir jerrio chebra svilpia nuo stogu, akyse sirdutes spyruoklem ant asfalto nutysta, tada sunkvezimiai savo visom imanomom lambadu muzikelem pypsina, karts no kartu grupinis isteriskas svilpimas pasigirsta, o as apsimetu slanga, ant greitkelio laukiu auto, su savo suluzusia kamera bandau zenkla nufotografuot, ir tuo tarpu autas pravaziuoja, kaip gi kitaip jei ne taip pajausi dykumos, (r blogu kameru) zostkuma, bet susitinku taivaniete, ir net keista, kad veidas kitoks, o sneka tai kai bilekokia backpackere is lietuvos, visur varineja mergelike, ten sast, ten sast, as tai nemoku taip, labai gi pavargsti zmogus, pasiilgau dviracio, tai mini sau ir tiek, o cia mat kitaip dabar ragaujame turizmo, nuo vieno raudono tasko zemelapy iki kito, o taivanas yra gal tik kaip dzukija ir ten 22 mln gyvena, man rods lietuva bus tuoj pati ta salis gyventi toms, kurios nemegsta grusties

Arnis sako, krauk nuotraukas. nu, kaip zinia man su technologijom juodi menuliai dabar, tai cia ziurekit turkijos nerealius vaizdelius

http://www.nuribilgeceylan.com/turkeycinemascope1.php?sid=1

 siaip tai chebra, aciu uz palaikyma. pravercia labaj

siena. sako, veluoji dvi dienas. bauda mokek. tai ne, sakau, kad tik viena. pasirodo viza buvo ne menesiui, kaip ansksciau, o trisdesimciai dienu. kadangi sausis turi 31 diena, tai tokia matematika cia gaunas. pasirinkimas, arba susimoku bauda simto liru, arba 5 metus neivaziuoju i turkija. siaip galeciau ir nevaziuot, bet paziuriu zemelapy, kad kelias pas dvyrke tik per iraka tada veda. kaip ir nebera kur dingt. arba daryt pasaulio kelione aplink pas dvirati. ble. susimokejau.

mano vezikas, kuri susitranzinau, jau matau rankom trina ziuredamas i mano sviesuji viaida. bet arabiskai kala, viza pasto zenklu pavidale smakst ir gavau. ko nesitikejau beveik, nes pagal viska ambasadoj reik gaut. bet buvau girdejus, kad ir taip galima. taip ir pigiau gaunas, nei tiesiuoju keliu. nu ka, vienur pameti, kitur laimi.

o kamera mano brangioji vis dar neveikia, bet jau iseina, kad i ja sukisau apie du simtus euru. nu, bisk padauzau, tai isijungia. yra toks dalykas, kaip point of no return. investuoji tiek, kad paskui tik nustot pasidaro kvailiau negu neinvestuot.

susikuklinimo momentas. jauciuosi kaip mokykloj pirmoke. moku pasakyti tik aciu, sukran. nors buvo anksciau bandymu mokytis arabu.

ieskau ertes hostelio. kvapai, sviesos, muilo kalnai, naminio, kurio tiek, kad zmoniu gal nera, kad tiek nupraust, bet kita vertus, cia nei daugiau nei maziau 4 mln zmoniu

ju nera, iseje. einu falafelio ieskot. halepo falafeliai yr garsenybes. randu. pinigu neima is manes, sako cia svetingumas.

erte. gyvas. nesitiki. kaip holivudo filmuose, grynai. apie praradimus ir atsiribojimus ir mirties taskus kazka veblenam. ar dugnas jau? kai pagalvoji, viskas taip reliatyvu. daiktai. mes visi kurie prie kompu sedim, nesam net vienas pasaulio procentas zmoniu. tuo tarpu trecdalis neturi geriamo vandens. uz 50 metu - du trecdaliai. cia gal kartojuos, bet vistiek galvon nelenda. ir ka tie kompai ir kameros, blia?

pabundu. toks depresono uzuomazga. reikia greit kita tiksla galvot. taip, einam plesiku ieskot.

didmiestis. zmones ziauriai mieli atrodo. vat ar cia yra skurdziu valstybiu fenomenas?

susitinkam ieskodami neto Adel. kaip tik tokio man ir reikejo. Erte raso mailus, o mes su adel apie politika. jis studentu komunistu partijos vadas cia. pasiaiskinam, kaip cia kas su iraku sirija libanu ir amerikom, jis is libano, mama armene, studijuoja cia, 33 metu, teise.

Veluoju susıtıkt su Erte. Jıs dvıracıu tenaıs su tokıu belgu. Mano turkıjos vıza sıandıen pasıbaıge, vakar bludıjau po Tıto tunelıus senojoj Antıochıjoj ır sian jau norejau varyt, bet nusprendzıau surızıkuot, nes laukıu, kad gal dar syki pavyks sutaısyt kamera. Rasıau Erteı vısa dıena klausdama, kur jıe tıkslıaı yra. Bet nıekad negavau atsakymo ır jau pradejau jaudıntıs, kad kazkas. Erte rase vakar, kad sırgo, kazkur mıskuose prıe Hallepo. 

Gaunu sıta dabar ır prakaıtas pıla skaıtant

Hi Candy,
 
 
I am E1000, the belgian friend who is bicycling with Erte. 
I want just to tell you that Erte fell sick when we tried to cross the syrian dessert through Sfeifira in order to reach Palmyra. His health was such that he could not bike anymore and that he was on a dehydrating state after two days of strong diahrrea.
So, I decided to bicycle back to the nearest city of Aleppo in order to find an ambulance.
While I was biking back to Aleppo, Arto was robbed and lost basically all his bagages, laptop, camera, mobile , passeport, credit cards, cooking sets… included.
Fortunately, I was able to find quickly  in Aleppo a taxi for bringing him to the hospital and by an uncredible chance the taximan found also his passport on the ground close to the robbery location. Erte has such  a pain in his chest that he could not stand anymore and fell basically to a half state of unconsciencousness while he was robbed
After diagnostic, he suffered from a serious bowels’ inflammation but not surgery is necessary.
For the moment, he is still in Aleppo hospital but his health is improving from day to day.
 

Ryt varau.  
 

yalan yalan, hepsi yalan, taıp vıena turkıska halk, lıaudıes daına skamba, ır reıskıa, melas, vıskas melas….

ıs vokıetıjos nusıpırkau naudota fotokamera. laukıau jos menesı antlıjoj. tada ısaıskejo, kad jı sugedus. tada nesıau taısyt. taı ıkı sıol negalıu atsıstebetı, kaıp meıstras saltu veıdu, otks vyresnıo amzıaus man makaronus kabıno, kad cıa pakeıte kazka ır kad taı kruva pınıgu kaınuoja. problema lıko ta patı, tık suplojau jam kruva pınıgu, nes tıpo pakeıte kazka. nenorejau tenaı bartıs, ka kgalı zınotı, bet dabar radau meıstra antakıjoj, taı supratau, kad tas anas zaıdzıa su korta, kad labaı rımtaı atrodo. ır tokıu budu leıdzıa sau ımtı pınıgus

ır tokıu sıtuacıju cıa kruvos buvo. galvoju, esu cıa melagıu saly. bet kıtavertus, kuo melagıu salıs skırıası nuo pasaku salıes? kodel parınuosı del melo? nes patı nemoku meluotı? jeı ı taı zıuretı, kaıp ı zaıdıma, taı gal nera taıp blogaı. jeı vısı ır pats meluojı? nezınau nezınau.

cıa turkijoj ır buvo mano pagrındınıs ısmokımas, kad yra nerealiai patikimai atrodanciu zmoniu, kurie sau leidzia gana rafinuotai tave apmaut, kai jaucıa, kad pasıtıkejımas jau neabejotınas. atvıraı ır akıplesıskaı cıa turbut nıekas nevogs. bet rafınuotaı, kad tuo momentu geraı jaustumeıs.

esu skaıcıus, kad arabu salyse kaı kurıose, jeı paklausı kelıo, tau vısad pasakys, net jeı ır nezıno, nes kaı paleısı zmogu be atsakymo? svarbiausia, kad zmogus tuo metu geraı pasıjaustu.

zmonıu yra vısur ır vısokıu. bet cıa gerıausıaı ısmokau apıe melavıma. pasıruosımas sırıjaı? :) 

sita pasaka radau tbilisio bibliotekoj. per tris ejimus tenais galejau pagaliau ja issikopijuoti, nes elektronınes versıjos nera. tada vezıaus ı turkıja. tada sıaıp ne taıp gavau ta savo klavıatura, kurıos laukıau kelıas savaıtes ır dabar aute naktı sukalıau. popıerıu ısmesıu dabar, taı kurpıne palenves.

o adomo ıstroja, kurıa tas stephen graham parase tınka tıek, kad man jı tapo vısıskaı mylımıausıa pasaka. o dargı esu dabar antıochıjoj senojoj. vısaı netolı nuo tarıamos adomo tevynes. yra teorıja, kad adomo, beı prımuju zmonıu cıa buta butent dabartınıam turkıjos hakkarı.

ılga ıstorıja, taı gal atsıspausdykıt gerıau 

Stehen Graham ‘A Vagabond in
Caucasus’ (1911) 

Mr Adam 

Tramps often bring blessings to men. They are very brotherly; they have given up the causes of quarrels. Perhaps sometimes they are a little divine. God’s grace comes down upon them. Certainly one day I met a noble tramp, an
Eden tramp. He came upon me at dawn with a wood smile on his old face. He was one of the society of tramps, he knew all
Russia, its places and peoples, and he called himself Mr Adam. Why did he adopt that name? These were questions he was not in a hurry to answer. They involved story. Such a story! It sounded in my ears like a secret melody of the world. But first let me say how I met this most jovial wayfarer. I had slept one night by the side of the road among nettles and thistles. My pillow was a stone, my bed soft, dusty earth. I was so near to the rod hat the lumbersome, cracking ox-carts, that approached and passed in the night, seemed within arm’s reach – so near, that I felt the movement in the air as they passed.Horses snorted uneasily now and then, and once in the early morning a dog came snuffing among the herbage after me. It was a night of dew and dust. I do not suppose I slept more than three hours, but it did not seem a long night. The approach of dawn came as a surprise to me. I was glad to think it was dawn even if it should turn out to be an illusion. My bed was cold and fresh, my eyes seemed clammy and sticky, as if spun together with gossamer threads, my forehead was heavy as iron, my body seemed long and ponderous as that of a trold. Everything in me waited for the sun. A night on the mountains gives its peculiar refreshment, it nurses each limb in cold, dewy air, and transmits its influence in cold thrills into the very depths of one. I sat up and surveyed the scene in the half light and what was my surprise to see an apparently monstrous figure of a man coming toward me along the road. I almost feared him, but soon I saw his peculiar smile of geniality and my fears gave away. This was Mr. Adam. He came up to me as if he had known me from the cradle. The usual greeting and question passed, and then he pulled out of his ragged overcoat a chunk of bread and some hard white cheese, and sat down on a stone with the evident intention of breakfasting. I bade him wait whilst I filled my kettle. Whilst I went to get water he lit a fire. We had a very cheery meal. He cut his bread and cheese with a rusty dagger!He told me how he came to take the name of Adam, in memory of an old companion of the road who made a poor woman in Vladikavkaz very happy. This is the story. There was a man named Peter who died, leaving a widow and three children. The woman was very young and had a baby at her breast and was without money. When she had paid for priest and coffin there was little left her. Her husband ad been a writer in a railway office, he wrote envelopes and copied letters He only received forty rubles a month and as very improvident. Though perhaps it was not he, but Society, that was improvident, for his wife was a good woman and her children worthy. And when one is young one does not expect to die. Anna, for such was her name, had to leave the house where Peter had died. She had to step down in the world. She took one room in a little cottage, and lived there, and waited to starve. Neighbors helped her, but they were very poor, and her babes, like young birds in the nest, all stretched out their mouths to her and cried.It was a bare room. The family slept upon the floor. There was an old table that had been lent to them, and a stove and a box. In a corner the Ikon picture gleamed. The woman was little clothed, and the children showed their little bodies. So much had been sold to get a little money for food that even the samovar was not seen. Neighbors coming in held up their hands in pity for their poverty. But their fortune changed a little, for one day a strange chance befell. Anna had made a fire between some stones in the yard of the cottage, and was cooking a mixture in a pot when a ragged old man came up and begged a taste of the soup. She looked at him and thought how strange it was that anyone sod beg of her, and then she refused him, saying, “I am as poor as you, good man,, and my soup is bad, for it s what I have myself gathered. I took my pot to the market and begged. It is the first time, and it feels very strange. Everyone knew I did not beg for money, only for food. Some put in fruit, and some poured in milk, others threw in biscuits, near the butchers’ line I got a piece of eat, and by the vegetable stalls I picked up some cabbage leaves and an old cucumber. It is very well. I shall go every morning and we shall not starve. Only the soup is for us and it will not be good for others. The old man was tall and very hairy, one could scarcely see his face for hair, and through the rents of his ragged red shirt one saw his brown hairy chaste. His overcoat was of many colors and many cloths; he had evidently sewn into it whatever cloth he had picked up during many wanderings, and he had an it in many muds and soils, and the stains remained. His legs were tied up I in sack like trees protected for the winter, and his boots, which he had made himself without leather, were little bags of wool and shavings and grasses and dandelion down. He was not, however, the least ashamed. He did not reply to Anna’s refusal for some minutes, but he stood watching, fumbling among his rags, and she wished he would go away. But going away was not part f his intention. He slowly brought out a large iron spoon and, to the vexation of the woman, knelt down on the ground and peered into the pot. Then he gave his reply. “When Christ is near, water becomes wine,” and with that he skimmed the simmering liquid and lifted a spoonful to his mouth.“It’s tasty,” said he; “awfully tasty - really amazingly tasty.”Anna smiled and answered simply “I’m glad you like it, grandfather.” Grandfather took another spoonful and smacked his lips. “You know,” said he, “this is quite out of the way; it is very original; knew it was very good soup, it was speaking so well. I heard its voice far away. It called to me, it sang. What do you say to it, my dear, if I dine with you to-night?”Anna looked up at him appealingly. “No,’ said she, ‘pass by. We are very poor, and this s all we have to eat; it is too poor for any guest. Dear old man, go away.”“Oh, no! I don ‘t think so. This sort of soup a king would be glad to eat. It is the sort kings can’t get. You might even make a great fortune if you sent a sealed tin of this to the Tsar. The Tsar’s cook is a great friend of mine; if you could get on the right side of him you’d never wan for a piece of eat to throw in the soup. But I advise you, don’t part with he recipe, it’s worth its weight in gold. And now, what do you say to having me as a boarder? Yes, surely as God rules over everything why shouldn’t I stay here? How much shall I pay? Well, never mind, you make this soup each day and then you can save al the money.”Anna now felt seriously troubled. An old ragged man could be no help to her; he could not pay her anything, and she would be poorer than before. She pinched up her pretty lips into a bunch, and frowned and shook her head violently; it would never do. “No grandfather, I couldn’t take you; we are very poor and you are even poorer than we are.”Thereupon the old an laughed exuberantly, and his eyes shone like those of Santa Claus.  “I know, I know, I know,” said he. “What do you know, grandfather?”The old man laughed again and then pulled out a large volume, old and rusty-leaved. It as a Bible, and he opened it between the Old Testament and the New, and there were money notes for seven hundred roubles. “That’s what,” said he. “My wages for clearing the clouds of the sky for the Sultan of Turkey - for you twelve rubles amonth and you needn’t spend a penny of it, for we shall live on such soup as this.”Anna meekly bade him welcome, wondering who he might be in disguise. Some great man, surely, she thought for he seemed very highly connected.“What is your name, grandfather?” said she, as he stumped into her room and sat down on the box, and took little Foma on one knee and Mania and the other. “What is may name?” said he. “Ho, ho, ho,” and he laughed. “That’s a good joke. It is a long, long while since anyone asked me my name. I’ve heard so many names; they were so like mine that I got confused long ago, and it wasn’t worth while remembering. What do you think, little Fomitchka? And you’ll be asking where I come from. Really, I don’t know. How many provinces are there in
Russia? Thousands surely. One day I slipped out of my own province and lost myself and kept coming t new provinces, always new names, and the places just looked the same. You know it says in the Bible Adam was the first man; Mr Adam, then came Mr. Cain Adam and Mr. Abeol Adam, and Mr. Seth Adam. You call me Mr. Adam.”“A-dam, grandpa,” said little Foma. So the ragged old man with the money and the Bible and the spoon came and lived with them. They all lied together, slept in the same room, and ate from the same table. Every morning Anna went to the market with her pot and collected food, and ever evening she boiled soup on the stones, while grandfather dipped his finger or s spoon into the stew and tasted it approvingly. Every Sunday she received three rubles from him and put them by. It was strange; they lived as poorly now as they had done before. So poorly they lived that they only had tea once a week, and they led it in a saucepan and had I without sugar. Grandfather had produced a partly-used two-ounce packet of tea from his overcoat. Yet this tea-party was something glorious - a strange weekly happiness to be anticipated even six days ahead. Anna ceased to feel anxious, and the children grew rounder and happier, though it was difficult to see ho  had come to be. They were being fed by something more that soul; perhaps, as they scrambled abut grandfather’s knees and listened to his stores, they were enchanted a little. Anna looked at them and wondered. Grandfather has tramped through sun and rain, thought she - how dark and rich his hands are, like the black earth in the spring. Her little baby, that had done nothing but scream and look unhappy since it was born, had now begun to smile. It smiled at grandfather like a little evening gleam of sunshine after wet, wet days. “Lizetchka,” her mother would exclaim. “Ah, Lizetchka! Little Lizetchka! My little angel!” then neighbors came in and they would have found fault and gossiped, but grandfather’s cheery way took their hearts b surprise. And the owner of the cottage, who was responsible, wanted to turn the old man out because he had no passport, and it was dangerous to harbour such a man; but he too, was won over; though he was mean, and had a wife meaner than himself, he contentedly took the risk. Sometimes his wife would urge him on against Anna and the old man, and he would go to them to say stern words; but when he came and saw the children, with their little finger tangled in grandfather’s hair, he would  forget his message and laugh and say,  “Oh, Mr Adam! Fancy you live here without a passport! It’s all right living so, eh?”So time went on, and no one disturbed the little ménage of Anna and her three children and Mr Adam. Years passed and the old an ceased to be a surprise; nothing new happened; no one inquired after him; no one claimed him. He lived all the while in his rags, and read from the Bible and played with the children, and praised the soup, and made merry with  the neighbors. Only once Anna has been sad. That was when she mended his torn shirt for him. She had often mended Peter’s clothes whilst he wore them on his body, and now and irresistible memory brought back the pathos of her loss. She wept a little and Adam comforted her, and as she looked through her tears at him she felt suddenly very grateful, and it seemed to her that perhaps Peter had sent this man to her to help her. Suddenly the thanks which had been mounting up in her heart overflowed, and as she finished sewing she put her arms round his neck and kissed him.The days of these years were strange days, the strangest of Anna’s life and in after years they seemed only few days, only a short, strange period of heavenly comfort. For the time came when she had Adam no more. He fell ill and died.
Mr Adam’s dead, said all the neighbors, and the felt very sad. “Mr Adam is dead,” said the owner’s wife. “Now you’ll see how foolish it is to have a man without a passport. What will the police say? You’ll have too put his dead body in a field for men to find, and then it will be said we murdered him.”“Grandpa dead,” said all the children and moped. But Anna felt very troubled. What was she to do with him, a man without a name, without family, without a village? A man who had over five hundred rubles in his bible! Poor Anna! Had she but had a little cunning she might have put by she five hundred rubles to be a little fortune for herself. Grandfather had died very suddenly or he would have told her to do so.  Anna was simple enough to go and tell the police the story, and an official came, looked at the man, and took away the Bible saying he would have it examined. In the Bible lay the precious notes! Then Anna bought white robes and took off Adam’s rags, and washed his body, and laid him upon some clean boards, and bought a cheap coffin, and hired a man to dig a grave, and se went and buried him, and put a little Ikon on his breast, and held a lighted candle over his tomb, and sang the thrice-holy hymn, “Holy, holy, holy,’ and went home. Adam was no more; they were poor; the official never returned with the bible; no one asked about the missing passport. But what the greedy  official had not guessed, and what Adam had never divulged, was that in his rags, in one of his man deep pockets, was secreted another sum of money, a thousand rubles. This Anna found, and was wiser than before, having leant from experience. To-day she keeps a little cookshop and is prosperous, and the peasants say that she, better than any of the wives in the village, knows how to make god soup.Such was the story the tramp td me. He liked telling it, and now, as I have repeated it, I find the same personality in the  friend of the woman and in my acquaintance. Surely Adam did not really die, Adam never really dies. One other thing he said to e that remains; there are two Adams - he Adam before he tasted  the fruit and the Adam after he had tasted. Most Russians retain their Eden happiness, but whenever one of the tastes of the tree of knowledge his old happiness is cursed; the time ha come for him to leave
Eden and seek the new happiness. Adam was the first modern man. The tramps have found the second
Eden.

aerouste skrendant pas vaıka prıeına prıe manes tokıa moterıs ır klausıa vokıskaı kazko. as sakau, kad nemoku, nors vokıecıaı lazytusı, kad esu kılımo ıs kıono. nu nes turkıskaı norıu ısmoktı. geraı, taı turkıskaı jın man ısıaıskına, kad turı per daug bagazo ır ar galım pasıdalınt. sakau, problem yok, nors zınau, kad grasına vısur neımt kıtu zmonıu bagazo. nu bet negı as turkıjoj, sıtam absolıutaus svetıngumo kraste atsısakysıu? nu jau ne.

 geraı, zıurım bagaza. prıduodam kartu. jın tokıa dıdzıule dıdzıule deze turı. check-ın darbınykas sutıkrınes pasus ır bılıetus klausıa, o kas cıa

balık.

tıpo, zuvıs.

 canlı? klausıa tas ısbales. ar gyva, mol?

tada jau neatlaıkıau ır prasprudau juoktıs. tokıe mıelı jıe man. vaıkaı jos labaı megsta zuvı, taı ır veza, sako, vokıetıjoj nıeko panasaus negausı.

man nuostabu zıuret, kaıp darbınykaı vısı puole sprest, kaıp cıa gerıau ta zuvı veztı, nor ır negyva jınaı jau. ne nu, sıltı zmones, nors ır salcıausıa pozıcıja juos ıgrusk.

su vısom terbom ır tasem sulıpom ı lekta. jı - kurde, pasnıbdzdom sako, kaı paklausıu. jega. ar ne juokınga, kad prıklausydamas 30 mln dydzıo tautaı pasnıbzdom turı sakyt, kas esı?

kurdu kalba taı ıdomybe. ındo europıetıskaı kalbu grupeı prıklauso, ne turku. panası ı farsı truputı, ıranıska.

ır kaıp jum patınka, kad as nezınau kurdıskaı yra

es nızanem?

dıngau, nes buvo toks dingimo periodas

vienu metu neatlaikiau, nuejau pesciom i aerouosta, sedau i lekta ir nuskridau pas vaika. tas vos soko negavo, as irgı, metus buvom nesimate. ıdeologine parke buvo man kaıp reikiant, kaip cia as dabar tokia ekologiskumo propaguotoja skraidysiu, bet nusprendziau, kad vaikas sito argumento nesupras, ir nesventumo prisıpazinımas sau irgi kartais gerai.

tada cia logistiniu issukiu buvo, tıpo laukiau klaviaturos pastu is vokietıjos savo palmui, kad galeciau rasyt i bloga . tai su pastu prisizaidziau vel, bet gerai, nes kas jei ne tokie daşykai yra fonas bendravimui ir siaip gyvenimui. nors dabar jau noriu keist zaidımo lenta, uz keliu dienu susiti,nkam su erte palmyroj, kas yra sırıjoj dykumoj. bus gerai apsneket nuotykius, jau laukiu kaip kokios terapijos

o sriuba tai prie to, kad labai norejau sriubos ir variau i miesta. uzeınu i viena vieta ir ziuriu, kad jie turi tokia, kur man nepatinka, tokia balta ir vidujk vistukas pluduriıuoja. o as norejau raudonos labai. tai einu toliau, ziuriu reklama kaba, raudona sriuba. ieinu ir klausiu, çorba var? tipo ar sriubos yra. yra yra. nu, ne tokios kaip paveikslely, bet yra. nu gerai, galvoju, patinka man tie draugiski turkai.

dingo jisai. hm. taı jau verda musiau, galvoju. ir itarimas kyla. akurat, atvaro bicelis besisypsantis su ta sriuba is kaimynu! nu ka, pralinksmino baisiai, taip iseina, kad lemta man siandien sita balta sriuba valgyt ir niekur tu cia zmogus nuo jos nepabegsi. ne tokia jau ir bloga tada pasirode.