U R A fever n ghosts in my head.

Why the only basis of the wicked world has to be the money sole? Various people, like various artists on a lately released cd, tell you , assure you, that noone but you will manage, will cope in the future life of the damned elders. The adult-infants who are overwhelmed and begulied by the demi-god Mammon. One can thrive on this beliefs, but suddenly s/he stops in the earthly wandering n stand abashed n figured out in the end, that everything on which s/he has benn thriving has now become just a pile of white lies, good words sometimes. In moments like this, even the greatest success wears off like a cheap drug, meaning nothing, leaving just a wisp of the glory n immense happiness. I'm sad in such a way that it almost reaches the bottom, th depression precisely. Even tiny things which used to cheer me up, seem to have lost this ability. As mz great friend philollogist and awesome translator in+the+making has on his blog, paralelly I. Dunno wheter to be continued or not. Gone listening.