Where should I start? Have I ever stopped like this? I mean, started. Have I? Cannot remember having done so and yet it seems familiar. This book is new. It is nothing I have ever done, but it too feels familiar. Almost like I have already written it once. Twice. Thrice. Thrice he spoke and then fell silent. This book has something to do with . . . cannot remember. It has left me, this wisdom. This knowledge of mine, which I held so dearly. Never. Never again must they be allowed to treat us like this. Never. The end.weiterlesen