- I want to curl up into a ball and roll on the ground, to scrape myself on the stones and become a bloody mass. To grunt and let that unknown force come and put its warm hand inside my intestines and caress them. To stop every movement, every sound.

And to hear only her voice telling me, don’t be afraid. Because I am afraid, sergeant. Not of the wind. I wish I had such a beautiful fear. I am afraid of vulgarity. I am afraid of these terrifying crowds of the cowardly and spineless, all of those who, to protect the prosperity of their flesh, are capable of the most trivial things.

I am afraid of this relentless well-structured mechanism that doesn’t let you take a step without its approval. I feel weak, sergeant. The sergeant approached and squeezed his shoulders tightly. - You are capable of moving snow-covered mountains, he said to him. I don’t want to hear such things.