Čteno a nahráno ve Studiu Midian. Zvuk v pozadí , Archiv BBC, volně dostupné pro neziskové projekty, přesněji- Period Battle – Eleventh Century Battle, large army fighting with swords & axes.
And I held astronaut Peters by the hand. Lubomír Tomik Chapter thirty-seven. Beautiful court lady and Helene Blehárová. When I came out of the bathroom, I was surprised to find that Miss Blehar had packed a tailcoat and other things for the trip. Since she seemed to have taken her mind by hand, I tried to indicate to her with a friendly pat that I had already forgiven her. Me: -Nobody can pack as nicely as you, Miss Blehar. Miss Blehar: - So? - Me: - Old man! - I was very angry that she did not answer. The last expression was not, of course, the happiest, but Miss Blehár could be so terribly annoyed that she would froth the blood to the Holy Spirit himself. There is necessarily a drop of bile at the bottom of each cup. We committed a deadly sin with an unnamed nun several times, confessed to torture, and had to walk the naked streets of London, stoned and loyal believers stoned us and spat at us full of sincere ugliness, and before we released souls at the border, we confessed to all other horrible shame and people screamed and cried. That was before. Bodies covered with colorful scales of newspapers and magazines, rainbow curtains of tropical rain fall on London. Reflection drowns out the sound of melodic gong. Emergency signal. Mexican smog. They pounce on each other and it's all over in a minute. I'll throw myself into everything. We have an Indian summer here. The beautiful court lady inhales the lukewarm night air and observes the sky, the stars composing the constellations, the Southern Cross, the Centaur, the triangle and the Altar a little to the right. His evening despondency slowly dissipates in the majesty of the universe, which at one point has come within his fingers, throws a lasso, and pulls the moon to himself. In the last fire of the evening sun, everything grows to heroic proportions. The mountains are higher and more majestic, the forests denser and more mysterious. About twenty miles to the northwest, the last gas-filled garages exploded. He drinks liters of black coffee. She walks around him, strokes him and sniffs at him, digging her fingernail into him. He turns and swaps. - Think of something nice Sullivan. Think of me, for example. - The choke figs run in long spirals, long and noble. Sullivan is stunned by the smell of her body, he thinks of her seeing her yesterday with a milk jug, he can feel the laminar flow of sterile air, his lips move, and he says something in a hoarse voice. Silence is annoying and sticky. Everything always ends in silence. End of chapter thirty-seven XXXXXXXXX Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na publikaci je.... ,,Chtíč"