There was this summer. I, I just went for the walk. And more precisely - I went to the river scarcely several dozen metres from my house. Suddenly I didn't know what I had been willing to get back home for. I am looking up, dark clouds are starting covering the sky, the wind is blowing more and more firmly and more firmly. I am starting being afraid. Fear is escalating when I am looking at trees, frequent place of childlike games. Usually lazily whispering one's eternal melody, now some restless, sizes are starting assuming the unknown for me earlier. Trees are usually becoming fat terribly slender. I am quickening the pace, when all one after the other will get themselves dirty behind me to the ground. Of Trzaska, thuds, terror. I am running home, he doesn't already have trees. There is a clean space before me. I am more and more close, still 30 metres and I will reach an oasis of peace. I am socializing although I know that I should not and I can see the large, bad bull rushing in my direction. It is more and more more close and more close, when I am reaching the door I am waking up poured off then.
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