Úterní ranní čtení ,,A za ruku jsem držel astronautku Petersovou“ Kapitola dvacet tři.

Fotografie od Evgeny Tchebotarev na Pexels.com

Čteno a nahráno ve Studiu Midian. Napsáno více jak před deseti lety, jakákoli podobnost se jmény postavami povoláními příjmeními je čistě náhodná nebo je to klasická synchronicita.
Lyrics…. proč ne,

,,Lyrics“

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And I held astronaut Peters by the hand. Chapter Twenty-three.

Lubomír Tomik

Chapter Twenty-three.

I don’t want to become a photo !!!!

The crow landed on a branch. She tapped her feathers, wiped her beak, and stammered.
Then she spread her wings and flew up.
The croaking, the croaking sounded like a mockery.

-Uhúúúúú-he called out loud.

-Húúú-úúú- an echo replied.

After a while, his heart began to pound.

-Uhúúúúú- he shouted with all his might.

Silence.

Three centuries have passed.
-What do you think, Mom,-he asked as he pulled his tight-fitting T-shirt over his head- What do you think, there are still unknown, undiscovered islands in the world?
-I don’t know… -mommy answered.-Surely they are.-
-I’ll find them!
He lay down, scratched his heel, and wrapped himself in the sheet.
-I know how to do it. One must arrive at the island on a boat, raise the flag and describe the manners. Natives have no reason to be afraid. When you deal with them for good, like Miklucho-Maklaj, then they also treat you for good.-

  • So she’s finally asleep, you native! -Mom said, and sat down at the table, making love.
    He turned to the wall, closed his eyes, and began to think about his discoveries.
    He is arriving on a boat to an unknown island. Residents look at the unknown smiling stranger in astonishment. Without a weapon, he boldly approaches them, greets them…
    Suddenly there was an explosion! The island has blown up!
    Mom is still painting and not noticing anything.
  • There’s nothing here – he’s trying to ward off excruciating fear.

  • Suddenly there is a booming, grunting voice. It is the spirit of Miklucho-Maklai.
    -Death awaits us everywhere.-

-I don’t want to become a photo in books about travelers!!!!!!!!!-he begs and sleeps the top of his duvet and tears flow from his eyes.

The sun hovered over the remnants of the island. Your hand in my hand. I was shaking all over.
My mother still paid no attention and devoted herself to painting.
In her painting, half-naked martyrs walked through the streets of the city. Eager and loyal believers stoned them.

Oh, dark Nights….


End of the twenty-third chapter.

Crowley - ctyrka holi
YES! Jako vždy má Tarot pravdu.

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