Intro..- Draw... Poems.. Today is Thursday December 9, 2010 and the truth is, years ago, at the back in the Fifty - when it used to cross through the Koševého Street, where we lived - there was a step for storing bags and we used to sitting there - because it was possible with our little asses - there I said to Pék - that we are The Beatles fans with Maroš - and I still feel sick - when I remember his ashamed face. I have the greatly developed property of tormenting myself forever for my own faux pas, and I realized, as always, after a while, that he didn't confirm it, even though we were friends so much, that lying into my eyes was beyond his power - another of my frequent roles - the role of the righteous - somehow it grabbed his neck strangely and he didn't really say it. It was still clear that we would never cry, we are best friends until death and Winnetou and all the games for good, but then - when it burst that I cry, he summed it up for me the all (it was, I guess, in a year or two) back then it had to hit him properly. It was already clear that I'm crying and that I'm sports wood - as his coach used to talk at his handball training - and it was also clear that I was beaten by Anča and Iveta at that time in the park, when there was a terrible strife (at that time I certainly had the feeling that my life is overflowing through my fingers - somewhere into the shit forever - maybe that was the first time) and we deceived everyone that they threw a stone in my back - so it wasn't that much awkward - But I couldn't attack them brutally, they were girls after all, oh, the evolution is slaughtering a guys like me with delight - nevertheless I still live: and I still don't know who is David Bowie: the evidence of my total inappropriateness in the air - what Maroš shouted to me - when he banished me from his dude's mercy forever - and you know, you stupid dick, who's Dawid Bowie?! I do not know. Back... Along.. More...