"First, the damp, dark depths and a lonely embryo in a warm interior. He does not yet know that he has been betrayed, that the sentence has been given. In it, all his future illusions and defeats. For now he is still in the garden, beyond consciousness, but they will pull him out and his excruciating screaming will not help. Nobody will take pity on him here because no one has received pity. First, only as a body, unconscious of itself, but unfortunately, it cannot remain that way. If only this body could see what awaits it! Perfidy lies in the fact that it can't! The body is not allowed to, because the sentence must be executed. The unspeakable horror of birth in which is already lying, curled up, the horror of life. This horror will then crawl out in all directions only to end up in a ditch, in a gutter, in a suburban railway car, on an icy sheet of a hospital bed or in warm sheets, among close ones, which are always too far away to tell them about themselves. If such is the beginning, what is to be expected at the end? Then, when they snatch him from inside, despite screams and pleas. When they wash the blood from their hands, like they would after murder. Wandering begins, to meet someone, to get somewhere. Both are impossible, but this impossibility can only be seen after a while, so again it goes back to a few illusions and comforts, which make the boredom and monotony of the road more pleasant. All these gusts, elation, despair of awakened senses. And this is just a short leash of desires and vents. And this is just a string of habits that will bind also many others after him. Dreams, illusions, fantasies, swarms of them, they run, to finally fall from exhaustion anywhere, feeling muck on the face, debris, sticky mud puddles, and finally a massive stench of dirt, exploding in the nostrils."