Meals worser than in my Senior High School -era. I might add, I'm not ''pro in cooking'' too. If you find my desk, it has logo: Malmi Vice, made with unsharp knife.
Great traffic jams, seems alike as if these were designed by someone.
Friday got mandatory strike (by buss drivers), so well, it can be counted as a traffic jam.
Cruelty and idiots. And while I can stand a kind idiot, cruel idiots just make me want to smack their head as hard as I can.
I also can't stand boredom, lie, hypocrisy, excessive selfishness, loud annoying sounds.
A given mission, mechanical assault, manufactured devotion.
Red eyes, an upside-down form. Even the twisted shape was made to be that way.
No matter how cruel the slaughter, worse than a demon's,
or how gentle the kindness, greater than an angel's,
a machine has neither will nor madness—only code, and a few bugs.
So why, then, does it feel so unbearably sad?