The reason still tries to keep a body down, isolating the dangerous categories running on nerves from a neck to hands and feet,
paternal finitenesses could break into a dance, a thick, inaccurate layer of stupid humour and silly irony which however helped
to hold the fort still a rationality against madness of horror and disgust. Well still the imagination and figurative thinking, of course,
came to the rescue. Who has told, what the imagination is the blessing, talent, rescue from serosti lives, optimism and, at happy
coincidence of circumstances, also money? Who has told, what exactly our civilisation what exactly the imagination has not
allowed to our ancestors to be bent in cold not heated caves in days of Eternal Winter on imagination is constructed? Who has
told that only thanks to imagination we have thought up cars that only thanks to imagination we learnt the world that only thanks
to imagination we reached for what it is impossible to get? So, and only so. Long live the imagination which has thought up a
nuclear bomb! Long live the imagination which has thought up cloning of the person! Long live impetuous, mad imagination
about general equality and a brotherhood, an iron hand realised! Long live the imagination transforming blood in a paint, blood
pools - to exotic house Red sea, somehow, absolutely casually spilt on a floor in apartment, three times hurrah to the imagination
looking at the world by empty eye-sockets. Yes, us correctly abuse for zashorennost, for weariness of the sight acquiring a solid
fat to years etak to ten, when in the world, in your opinion, does not remain more than anything interesting when eyeballs still is
reflex turn, trying to discover the habitual food, an interesting female, zabojnuju razvlekalovku when original brightness of a life is
substituted for imagined clearness when behind trees it is not visible woods, and in the wife - women when the main pleasure
you receive not from novelty, and from predictability when your loosened from fats the mind only and can imagine the happy end,
a victory of good over harm, compensation of virtue and a fine long life. Through cuts of habitual stamps and repeatability of the
world we see only a positive, but not in sense of absolute Good or absolute Harm, depending on the one to whom you serve,
and the positive subjective - to notice and react only that is convenient and is wished to you. And not in all here our fault. If we
really perceived the world, such what it is we would have be no need to become people - we would leave the good, fine, clever
animals which all imagination did not go further incidental application of a stick for knocking down from a palm tree of especially
attracted banana. Perhaps the only thing, what also distinguishes us from animals, such imperceptible a little for which some gets
enough - them burn, for example, it and is our imagination? Represent, what was, if we have lost it suddenly? We would become
happier, as would not dream about unattainable for that is unattainable, does not exist in rational reason, but we would descend
from mind if though the shred of a rationality, humanity in us somehow remained. We would not sustain a ruthless pressure of an
external world, even the most severe and brutal of us would close in horror of an eye from a cold grin of rainy autumn, from a
pragmatism of natural selection, from malicious jokes of a case, kalechashchego the most adapted by the casually fallen tree
and passing the weakest when the hungry tiger neglects a safe bag with bones on crutches in exchange for a bag well-fad, let
even with a spear in hands. If I was captured by an attack of an animal practicality I would not stand, having pressed in a wall,
with the fallen off jaw and vyluplennymi eyes, and has rushed with a head to vivifying ocean and drank up, drank up, drank up
it, choking with a saliva and humming from desire.