The most terrible dream begins in the morning.

The old life is dead. The old ones are also dead. We buried the past in the village wells, under the thickets of unkempt grass, burned in the oven.

We exchanged rural tranquility for the city vanity.

Demons, devils everywhere. They fly in the air and slowly but surely push us to crimes and atrocities.

Do not even try. They themselves will help, push, and, finally, throw into hell fire.

Dreams, when they die, certainly become nightmares.

Messengers from the other world will definitely come and take their. The mower will suffer from terrible burns. A little girl will suffer from the inability to find out the truth.

But even the worst nightmare can not be compared with reality.

There is no family, there is no happiness. A secret heartache and constant insults lead a simple country boy to suicide.

Many people are cruel, callous, with anger in the heart. Why so? After all, they could be generous, sincere, attentive. What we could be, but did not.

It is better to be. Better!