Once there was the world that didn't think of itself.

And it was managed by a prestidigitator so weirdly imperious that nobody

judged him and was afraid of.

The world for itself was a prestidigitator of its sketch.

The witnesses avoided him, but he lasted.

But out of the sudden, somebody appeared who asked:

What is happiness? Where does it abide?

Being a prestidigitator for itself, the world didn't know the answer.

What on earth, isn't this a brave soul born out of noble nature?!

He left the brave soul to his own fate.

And the universe goes as it used to on its narrow path, avoiding the brave soul

that flounces about and can't understand anything.

The brave soul could not accept the narrow path of the world and, besides the pursuit of happiness,

he additionally contrived a suffering for himself.

The brave soul tries to create the sketches that are similar to the world's sketch,

however, not being capable of sketching in thought, he only invents and makes up what happiness is.

 

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