“Halcyon” is the name of a bird in Greek legend generally associated with the kingfisher. There was an ancient belief that the bird nested in the sea, which it calmed down to lay its eggs in a floating nest. Therefore, two weeks of calm weather were expected around the winter solstice. This myth leads to the use of halcyon as a term for peace or tranquility.

Halcion, with a different spelling, was a recently used drug for insomnia that was sadly still being prescribed, even though it was banned, as it sometimes induced violence while promoting sleep.

SUPERIOR NAZI: It was a floating nest on a sea that had calmed down, and we laid the eggs there even though what we had done was tried, and finally one finds out that one has finished it, and was wrong about the premise. How I wanted to get there for you, but I couldn’t find you because you were lost to me. Time is short and my once great role has slipped out of my hands. In the halcyon days of my youth, I was selfish and perhaps a selfish man. How is it that time slipped so suddenly through my still eager hands, with the dull hourglass overturned, the hands of the business clock still in arid time?

It was always a constant risk to avoid the holocaust at the end of our hour. We should have been boys, not men, since our ideals seem so naive now. In fact, we were real Aryans, and we were also inauthentic jerks. We were stupid men, not really children, but stupid men with beautiful faces. Some pretended to be boys or at least boys and were not pretty because of what they did and have done, sometimes with us and on our individual behalf. We were superficial, but so were they. I’m not sure that theorists ever become practitioners of pure theory.

It’s a living contradiction to have perfection on your face all the time while your own sense of identity disappears into thin air.

I was drowning in the immense work of designing the images and even the role of the Golden Ario, who was our ubiquitous creation, perhaps our Frankenstein. Total, the golden nettle soup was a pot in which they boiled me. It’s rich folly, rich Nazi folly, that everyone would seek the golden grail and throw her away as a slave.

They were stupid men in their obsessive approach that excluded so much, the Nazis were, and I was one. Today I put on my crumpled Nazi uniform jacket with much reluctance, as it doesn’t fit me well and suffocates me around the neck because it’s too tight, too confining in my middle age.

I was falling when I saw you as you lifted up the gigantic golden Aryan, supreme supremacy, which represented and even blinded us to the real scintillating rays of an innocent sky, though now I have lost the light. The heavy weight of beautiful and malevolent illusion has passed back into the present, and while I stand before you, we can put an end to the lethal travesty these hardened opium drugs were for mankind.

YOUNG INTELLECTUAL: I was forced to drop the weight of the heavy golden anvil around my neck. As they tied it around my neck, the second group told me that I could take it off when it got too heavy. They said it was my choice as the golden anvil on my foot broke my son’s feet every time a foot and even my leg and killed me. Did he kill you too? at three years old, the first time maybe before.

I refused the anvil early and it was taken from me, brought to me at twelve, though I thought I was six or seven or even eight when I took it off my neck forever as the dying symbol and actual racial slavery that it was. No better than black slavery was gold for me, it was actually really scary to be such an elevated symbol of the beauty and virtue of the white race at such a young age, especially looking at some of the proponents of apartheid.

SUPERIOR NAZI: The golden river of Aryan supremacy is a river I can still hear and feel flowing over my head. The roar is so deafening I can’t sleep, and I’m drowning under the river swelling above me, walking too slowly to bear the weight of the wet stones and baptismal water inside my burnt, tense hands, every day. The horrible weight of rigid and demanding superiority that we all feel when we beat up our brothers, mindlessly and beyond all our detailed but covert planning for certain and inevitable success, was only for an ethnic victory that we lost on a relative. ditch next to the road.

Maybe it was the cleaning I’m looking at today before I leave you to come back when I can and I’ll help you with the anvil.

We all walked in the glory of the white man, elevating him as an unattainable god when we ourselves felt small inside and needed an exalted man. We still held him, nurturing the great image of him at least tenderly in our arms, the unreachable, untouchable golden high gods that I am not, and I was never the great Aryan… but I spoke daily for him, eloquently. Really, don’t put too much rhythm on it.

I was a big problem, a big problem: it was the Reichstag. I liked it for its importance, but I really regretted my role as I walked over the dusty, lifeless corpses, like a carpet of dry leaves under my low army boots. I lamented all this as I walked nimbly and carefully over the dead images under my feet, the old black-and-white photographs, scratched and scattered, of all our efforts to disappear into the higher air, into the ethereal space you have originally defined as Z space.

We tried and failed as leaders. Now it’s too late to find our eagles, our brave striking eagles that never flew. We are abandoned wolves in search of a sunrise, but still, skinny freedom is better than fat hunger after a night of ghastly holocaust.

Standard metal filing cabinets were looted and toppled in derelict offices that existed in desolation – in devastated pornographic stills, I was left looking for you! After filming the porn movies, the people involved move away from the structure, right? The victims recognize the old porn movie set and wait in terror, agonizing terror for the perpetrators to return to make another movie.

I looked all over the world, longing for your young perspective to help me while I was in power protecting your tomes written during slavery. I needed your humanity to do this, my friend, to stand before the old tomes, our classics, because I knew you wrote those books. I got angry because those are your classics that were stolen and standing on the published volumes, not you, the writer, who still lives without her credit as author.

For this we will end everything by itself. I’m ending the slavery you’ve been locked in. People are reading, all over the world, these classics without their names attached, and the lies must end.

YOUNG INTELLECTUAL: They told me when I walked into the conference room, “Here comes Ronny Reagan” and I had no choice, like you. I was Ronald Reagan, forced to write in his style while he suffered from an induced clubfoot, though to say this might be an invalidation of the product. I also had no choice, with the Star Wars ideology being just a vision I originally thought of as a child, and wrote for the president to use as he insisted. I ended up being the author of Star Wars, and who would want that? Who would want to be the creative political writer for the end of heaven and limited options for the rest?

TOP NAZI: It was the apartheid strangler vines that crawled up my calves, up and hardened into stiff, thick, rigid stems inside my legs. The vines are forcing up and climbing my thighs and my dick, please say dick, and I can barely walk or sit easily these days. I’m waiting for the end of my hour.

It was the nazai, the armed Nazi. In general, it was the nazai who killed me.

The real work of the Nazi Party is the reduction of the cost of living and expenses, for life itself, as you said. We have to slow down with technology out of gear. It was golden nettle soup, not the golden ideal we had in mind.

With these words, the Reichsführer-SS walked away, reluctantly donning his Nazi uniform jacket, staring dully for a minute at the wooden floor of the apartment before leaving. In his presence, the kind and brilliant man became visible as a high-level leader and intellectual in the world Nazi Party, with an almost invisible transition to the subtle expression of cruelty. The skin around the cheekbones of his face tightened with a small, quick movement, and his eyes began to take the cold look of the mighty leader as he stepped through the door, away from her one last time.

However, the young intellectual knew that he would finish it, since he had given his word. He had managed to remove the hood from her head that very afternoon, the dying, suffocating metal hood that was breaking her neck, the heavy head bowed and dissipating her will to live. After he ordered an officer over the phone to come immediately to remove the hood, and after that man refused to do so, making only a token effort and storming out of the room as soon as he arrived, the tall Nazi stood up. he excused with great difficulty, it seemed to take hours, but he said he would remove the chains around his feet and the metal armor of the crusades around his waist when he returned.

Another high-ranking man or two came and went without helping, only muttering excuses before leaving. The intellectual remembers them well for their helpless refusal to help with the rigid, tight chains of slavery around her tender young body, a girl’s body, even now a woman’s body. The hot death metal hood was a shroud in which she had been suffocating. Her bent neck seemed to snap as she constantly struggled to hold it up and smile at the older Nazi.

For two weeks earlier, unnamed leading men removed the politically insignificant symbols of pain on their breasts, though they added their own on their walls. The men were allowed to further torture her in the dry room in which she lay in a state of betrayal in front of the pillows.

Only the older Nazi did, freeing her from death. A once powerful minor Nazi, making only a token effort, stepped off the young intellectual’s back as he faced him in torture. She still lives, however, within the sensation of a black shroud of death and breathes with the sound of a harsh, death rattle within a hood of bondage, though she now walks under the daylight and shroud. it is invisible to most. Her feet and legs ache all the time from the metal anvil and braces over the years, the ties that crippled her.

You never forget the shoes of those who betray you.