Peter Inglenook

Look out, look out, don't sing now. Your voice sounds strange when we're standing under a palm tree like this. And also, they've never been christened and also their future might be bleak and mind the causality and mind their looks, dear. If you could only move a bit to the right, things might be different. But since they are perfectly capable of breathing, of moving even, in this humid air, one can but wonder about the strange faculties of body and mind that enable them to do so. Because, see, dear, we can't and who are we but the ones closest to? Actually, I've noticed lately that they sing themselves sometimes. But, if you ask me or any other reasonable and sensible Christian, they will tell you that song and song and song are three different things and although you might think that three is good because it always is, it is not, not in this case. For one, the world is different here and numbers lose their sacredness when they are misplaced. Also, the devil is in the tell-tale and he uses our holy signs for his own purposes and then he darkens people's skins and also their souls. Until their souls become a black hole and are no more, and even more, they swallow everything that's left of the light. Who is they, you ask, who is they, this seems random. It is not, I tell you. But never mind.