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Literature
Woodkid - Iron
Woodkid - Iron Głęboko w toni wód, w martwocie i odrętwieniu,
Gdzie niewinne dusze płoną w potępieniu,Tysiące mil od domu, idę naprzód sam,
Przemarznięty do szpiku kości, jestem tylko ja,
Żołnierz samozwańczy, nie znam drogi swej,
Topię się panicznie w winie wewnątrz mnie,
Czekam tylko na znak, ręka na piersi drży,
Jestem gotowy na bój, przeznaczenie i łzy.W mojej głowie dzwoni impet żelaznych nut,
Grom bębnów wojennych zapisuje już,
Rytm ciał upadających, ilość martwych dusz,
Lecz wzniosły odgłos rogów nie powróci już,Od zarania dziejów tutaj tak już jest,
Muszę wciąż uciekać, jak najdalej,
Chcę poczuć ból i metaliczny smak,
Krwi które sp...
Literature
The Interview
I stood before the small office building, shivering in the cold winter weather. This was my last chance, my last opportunity to convince my mother not to kick me out of the house. I had to nail this interview and get this job or else I’d be out on the streets. I had enough money saved up to get my own apartment, but I just wasn’t ready to move out. My mom said that if I go to university, she’ll let me stay and even help pay the tuition, but it doesn’t interest me. My friends say that I should just go, regardless, but I’m as stubborn as a mule and so is mom. This was the only thing I’d budged on. Getting a job. The process had ...
Literature
Solitary Sentinel
I often feel like a radio caught between stations, or perhaps a ham radio operator living deep in the vast white waste of Antarctica.A solitary sentinel.I can hear what everyone else hears. Almost. But only the outer fringes. I'm buried in a howling storm. Hood and gloves on, even in my shelter. I hear the overlap of thousands of channels. Many in strange languages with skipped words. Loud and whisper thin. Fast and slow rhythmed, with ululating tones, pings and beeps. I sense the shape of them. Of the words. Of the world. I understand much of its mystery.I press the talk button and try to call out. To communicate.My antenna is broken. O...
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