It makes me sick to sit and look upon the shit this planet cooks, the mean, destructive habit, and corruptness human beings bring.

It makes me sick to hear kids crying, caused by senseless, ceaseless hunger, amidst a civilized new century,

It makes me sick to hear the sorrows, solo thousands, loudly shout outside, but without help.

It makes me sick to see the people dying; uncontrolled hysteria of fellow humans banish souls within the ticking of a clock.

It makes me sick to see big-headed businessmen who care about less else than money they can use to waste their lives unnecessarily.

Crowds gather before the silver gate, surrounded on one side by a little jungle of bushes and a small brick wall on the other. Slowly, family progressions are lead by five, six or sometimes seven year olds to the scene; all dressed in superfine clothes, colourful or simple black-and-white. Bright faces compete with the sunshine enlightening the celebration from a cloudless sky, while eager relatives capture each moment with their flashing cameras or focus their camcorders relentlessly on the little ones.

I’m wearing beige trousers and a multicoloured shirt. Today, I got a lion-king backpack and a huge cornet of cardboard like everybody. It is bigger than I am. I am curious what I will find in there. The top shows yummy Haribos and a video. I also see a rubber and felt-tip pens, but there must be lots more hidden under that.

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