[Tags | we] Silent Siren memory yesterday seemed more bitter than the previous alarm. Yes, it's scary when howling seashells in bulk and all run, but you know it will end, it will pass, that is life. When a life-like howl freezes for a moment, you suddenly realize that it will never go away already. And yet on Saturday we children waved in Tel Aviv, got drunk with friends almost drunk and night were sitting on a completely deserted beach, looking at the white foam on the black water, the lights and helicopters, running over the edge of the girls, and strolling with a cigarette Negroes. Sand on the Hof Frishman night softer gentle and we stroked it rained through the fingers, spoke to about Dinushkom drowned and about oatmeal. And all this in a single coil.
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