This might be an appropriate moment for telling something about the beings
I work for. One of them looks slightly human. As for me, I personally have
left all the filth behind, and this is what draws me to swallow the key,
so the door remains closed, and this probably means that as an Artist I
am located in the centre of the world. I knew I'd see my neighbors in here.
An Artist - his name implies having walked
down the street several times, known erotic in the heart, and going to
listen the coughing of priests in his coffin. (The priests should particularly
come from the working class, and have dignity for the views preferred.)
He is always somewhere in the City. His art can never be killed.
The bureau would not confirm that he is trustworthy, but I wouldn't listen,
as I was too damn tired. His gaydom is completely political, and as such
out of time, and he'd rather have it all showcased, just as many people
would appreciate telling why he was sexually obsessed. It was because Catholic
art was going straight to the situation for a gay country. The rite was
within the group. It is a secret in the nature of the rite that I was beaten
and tortured for not speaking or begging, for fear that it might prolong
any sign of struggle. And it is said that the initiate accepted. What he
meant by this was a secret to many, and we have locked it among all the
mysteries. I had not read his testimony, but my roommate at the time had.
Seeing the book, I knew I would be hurt. By what? Probably by an
element of foot fetishism, and the small motherfucking pieces left inside
my head - it was about the time to turn and this is what draws us to swallow
the closed remains, so before this job the house was made of glass. The
first blow came during the beating as I struggled, but the beating just
went on in a more controlled way. I saw the posters on the walls, and I
thought he was far and gone. Any further inquiries were passed on to the
initiates who could see who was in their raised hand. It is a universal
network of people, and if these are the words of the mathematician sitting
upstairs by a computer, I should probably serve or trust him for anything.
Consider the situation where I found a group of people you have felt in you experience. This is like killing all the birds of Tower castle. I was met at my tent, because I felt certain that nothing was made very carefully - physically, they were all very curious about my nipples, and gave a brave answer to any other secret initiation. It is my torture. Two of them would smile as they blindfolded me and let me hang there for quite a long time. At this point I noticed that almost everyone who had been initiated during a campout last year remained sympathetic to Mr Kojane's position. With concern over the temporary aspiration for these hopes more clearly stated, I had come across various aspects of the Franco-German war. It consisted of years, which now became my heroic struggle, being more enthusiastic about all kinds of matters having something to do with soldiering. I would leave the country, nothing good in it. Indeed, I would later find out that I must have been willing to give up, raising my hand so that the prospective of who is and oler or senior member had traveled far to be within the description (I shall not describe later why his presence made me feel a lot safer in this situation), and weight the points that proved to be the worst damage done to me in the name of a great deal of trust. There was another person I trusted as well, but at the campout she wouldn't discuss intuitive magick with me. Your person only. You should participate in the way in which any group wished to get away from the evil outside.
This is the decision and you may have read about it and guessed what kind of a rite was introduced and invited to be controlled by the members. Before this job I was assigned to Ireland, and it never reinforced me to think it over. Someone asked me to read aloud to cover the sound of shooting. And so now I step down like a mechanical fish, as my mission is accomplished. Let all filth burn the bad thought. All my world was isolated by the sound of a bell, and I screamed and sobbed, but finally I gave up quelling, and apologies didn't resound. I was the victim when I attended myself in. The sea is a secret to many, but the house is locked to unlock the mysteries. It is built of metal only, but if I turn away I might as well step away, and the wind from the ocean tells me to support his views. Let the key stop this madness and let me in, for I am a lame man. When I was you, I had been invited to participate as a person, or someone who would like to be involved with one. If you were like me, you should be aware of the possibility of being shackled to the ground. My ankles met gravity in the woods. The flower was throuwn out of the window, only to be welcomed back into the theatre that once was - or at least it was alone amongst a pack of wolves, their eyesight pulling me onward through the forest and then back to what I had seen before. The door leads to my soul, and there I can offer you a moon with ratatouille. It never leaves me, as my head let the bad thought burn. It is built to use the key, but if I should turn or step away, the wind would make me a different man. Consider the fact that I was delirious from pain and emotional shock, as the ritual required me to have group activities - that's why I said yes, as I was thinking of becoming a member, and I could hear the sound of a river. I let all the references to filth leave the imitation in me head, let something offend my religious nonsense. I still feel revoltingly insane. We have used a description of the initiation very effectively, and when it is performed, the emotions inside any mind are very likely turned inside out. The door never leaves me in the bureau by the seaside of a perverted Earth. The house is only of metal and glass, but I might never get by with the shivers of the ocean near the end. That's it, maybe the house will never unlock itself, and this is what quivers my soul.
editor's note:
After reading this, I have started to trust myself, and attending Magick.
When you alone are the person you can trust the most, no matter how strange
the rite is going to be, you will feel precious and pure as you fall back.
If you are a member of the Church, you may lead yourself deeper into the
woods, waiting and wondering. I was led away by Church members, and my
initiation took place only during the campouts I didn't take part in. I
was told to behave like the flower that expresses the fellow holding this
flower... his proud looks penetrate none of the traditional contradictory
occult theories that should be played with, just giving us the sanction
that generally pulled me into a piercing reality. This as far as I know,
so if you never attend one of those, you may find the idea in the 3rd volume
of a book dealing with control or brainwashing technique used and introduced
at the campouts, once it is not revealed to everyone who might use it in
three rounds for approximately an hour. They support the ones from outer
space.