TRUNCATED HOLIDAY

The city smells like Christmas. Ornaments flicker from the trees,the light chimes-electric! Yet everywhere the shame of the holiday floats. The babies left in the warm cages of incubators are taken care of by angels, while the suicides go to the next World.

In the free kitchen, they are fighting again, or just pushing-scramble. The image of the meanness of an aunt in fox fur was also abundant; perhaps she wanted to destroy the refuge of her loneliness of her own volition.

The fancy catfishing party queens speculating on V. I. P. darids use formal pseudo-gestures to show how much love they can give and receive. The latest Playstation and X-box are back. And while in the artistic photographs with the star photographers mommy and Daddy and the Chinchilla are grinning, one wonders: Who and when did they make a mistake?! Have children become manipulative puppets?!

The dead sleep in the cemetery! Some eternal-lamps watch over their happy dreams. He who has now been placed in the frozen pit of the Earth may at last call upon the rest of the living: 'remain men and not evildoers!"Alas, through the veil of silent tears, a career Treasury hungry for success has collapsed again!

In the forest world, the Old Lady sucks out of the House. A simple festive dish of water Groats. Where's the nut-poppy beigli, shred gingerbread?! His grown-up children and grandchildren don't visit him either, because he doesn't have any money! He feeds his chickens with maternal love, only his farm animals. He buys sugar, flour, long-lasting food for three times as much if he ventures into the jungle of the city, where he always feels like a stranger.

It is not necessary to confess the call of love so convulsively - even if the feeling has long been forgotten by more and more people! What a terrible human test this vile, disappointing reality! The ordeal of agonizing days.