Reality That I Don't Show
I pass through the wooden walls with a loud sound that pierces from inside to outside, from skin to bone. It is impossible to describe my anger. I have to find new words for this. I know that because of the blows I received several times to the head, some connections in my brain were displaced and a few boards were missing. Instead of repairing them, I replaced them with metal parts. I prepared everything to make it more durable and to respond to iron objects with loud sounds.