· Ч·ЖБФ · You have wandered here to reflect and surrender, to be alone with yourself. You have retreated to this lonely and abandoned place because there is nothing left here, nothing you could still be interested in. Nothing you could identify with · Ч·ЖБЂ·Ф · After an endless time of contemplation, you decide in complete tranquility to die here. · Ч·ЖБЂ·Ђ · You make yourself comfortable, stop thinking and breathing, block out everything around you, hear nothing more, feel nothing more, smell nothing more, see nothing more. You rest, you calm yourself, you calm your soul, your consciousness, your conscience, your heart, until it stops beating, until it comes to a standstill, until everything stands still, everything around you—except your imagination, your unimaginable, immense, boundless, breathtaking imagination. Natalis Phantasma · ФБ·Ш · The Birth of Imagination
