Old Typewriter.
"This one my friends, reads us all right through our foreheads, well... I can feel it changing again, those filthy little pages, a blue fairy. Something big is coming. Somehow. But yet there is a lack of modjo or some fairy dust, deep in ocean... oh... I don't even wanna write. But I write... I can see those pages floating down... I don't even try to catch them anymore... they just keep floating and landing onto my shoulders... on my hair... my eyes... my face... those dusty old pages that written by an old typewriter. Is that my fate that we discuss? No? Don't ask questions. We don't need them in here... There are 3 possible different universes... 1 is this present time... huh? what is this again? Mellow, shallow? anything with low?! why so low?! why not high? are you high? no. never. but why? why art thou not high?... I'll keep on writing. My fate. my story. and then there are 2 possible different stories will be told. but YOU will still not understand. I&#
