Down in the basement there were two of them. They were ugly and they start the attack emidietily. I have my Ninia. I shopped the head of the first one. The other attacked me from the left side. I stopped the time for a moment, then let it go again. I cut the arm of the attacker and then I take a step aside and push my Ninia direcctly in the heart. I here a little puh and then the creature disappear. The death was emidiate and the Wall was transparent for a second. I was alone.

I find him burned out, only the face left, like an odd scream from the past or the future. The sun had shaped the ground, sweeping over it, like boiling water. There was nothing left. Only the name I called The screaming face. On the ground. Stone after stone. Like a graveyard. Can you remember. The sweet face, belowed and shadowless. Like a poem, written in the sand under the water. Nobody nows. But they talked about it. That it would be like this, and the guys, they laugh an played with the aeroplanes and the fuel. Obviously there was nothing to say or sale. Always this noise and scrumbling. Always the hits and the blood. To get it right. This is the impossebility of making things obvious when it hurts. And they don’t like it, they don’t like hurtig each other. Because the thunderstorm was just in it’s beginning state. Just in the beginning of the big outstanding demolishon.

And then came the wind. 150 km/h, weekend after week. And you don’t tell me about the conditions. You inviter me to dinner, and hell was over the ground. Will we disappear, that’s no option. In hell, you say to me, there is no options, there is no survival, there is only existens. And when you kill somebody, there is no second death. You say to me that you are a warrior, but I think you are a defekter of impossible thaugts and unbrilliant options.

30 deegres, 40 deegres, 50 deegres, where is The Limit, 60 deegres. The Limit is before The Desert. You cant live there they told me, but this is your playground. They made me for these, NO blood, it’s only descent, a climetwarrior in a climetplay. You think so, thats not the truth, you Will see, thats not the truth. I am behind your denial,  60 deegres, Thats not an option.

They call me Ichkaar, The Desertman, but my real name is Eichaart. And The Desert is beyond The Limit. Like Eternity. The Desert, The Limit and The Eternity.

In The desert he nows about the enemies, it’s like a theatrichel option in life, You now that I’m here again, whith some lite to sacriface. I can do this now, if You think it’s scary you are part of my brain, your decision is my option. You now.

I saw a girl whith a little elephant, it was her friend, maybe it was her only friend.

The desert is never your friend, the desert is gueit and hot and there is no water. The earth has beyond The limit turned too a big desert surronded by saltwater.

Do you want a coffin, she looked him in his eyes straight throuhg the mask, a coffin for the maggots, they would survive you, thats a promise, the maggots would survive us all, you now.

It was the last day, I now it, we ate dinner, the children plays, someone make a joke about the fuss people make of the climatechange.

I wondered about my shadow, a green Light and a cold wind. I take some step forward, I saw something moving, a rat, something to eat, I take the bow from my shoulder, take shot whith the arrow.

The dancer is here. I now her. From the beginning. She was outside. Her name was Mary. She own the floor with her sleepy longwild movments. I really loved her. But this were before. Now it is a memory. A beutiful memory in my brains loneliness. And the music. I can here it. Like waves over an abandoned lake.