Under The Imaginary Table That

Lifelessness Is Only A Disguise Behind Which Hide Unknown Forms Of Life.

The Days Hardened With Cold And Boredom Like Last Year's Loaves Of Bread. One Began To Cut Them With Blunt Knives Without Appetite, With A Lazy Indifference.

Reality Is As Thin As Paper And Betrays With All Its Cracks Its Imitative Character.

So, It Comes To Pass That, When We Pursue An Inquiry Beyond A Certain Depth, We Step Out Of The Field Of Psychological Categories And Enter The Sphere Of The Ultimate Mysteries Of Life. The Floorboards Of The Soul, To Which We Try To Penetrate, Fan Open And Reveal The Starry Firmament.

In Our Town There Was A Gestapo Officer Who Loved To Play Chess. After The Occupation Began, He Found Out That My Father Was The Chess Master Of The Region, And So He Had Him To His House Every Night.