I fried a black course bread. Later I sat by the table. The rice bread seemed tasteless at first glance, but I ate it with apetite. My gastric handled the previous events of the night. They blocked my throat like a paper. Possible that I will survive the twenty-four stop frame animations per day, and one of "25" is a completely incomprehensible to me? It live unconscious, deeper than any of the events, taking place around the world unclear when the flow of information, but can not be interconnected. It's simultaneously been rejected from my body as a growing the virus itself. Only my brain to process what I know and have experienced. The same as from the judge of the future. The future of an absolute solitude, which will take place in what no one can fully understand, and for anything to happen to me. Slowly sending up from the table. My eyes keep folollow the sound of trimmers, and then I increase the radio. Nothing more.