Everything is worse now. No one knows. A few random TXT-messages, drunk or sober. A few phone calls.

I'd rather die, I say. Than live in Third Reich.

Radical words--is the situation that far? Perceived?

This is the belly of hell. And when you burrow into hell, you must find air again. YOu must find a way out. Agian.

I have no plan. For this. I go down, thinking down is the quickest route to finding the answers, but what about the day I must stop, and find the exist?