Hail Man return back to yourself while you still have someone to return to!
Are we not here tonight, and here and elsewhere, and tonight and every day and every breath for the sake of our special, that individual, personal !?
For, can the general, can the general become, or is already becoming, the supreme measure of all that is our individual, of all that is our special; for especially, even here, your heritage, and what is more than the most valuable, spiritual, yours unlike any other, that which is only in your voice, singing and step; that your personal constant that has its survival and existence, its being!
But here, at this time, it seems that in the vocal cords rooted in your throats, and inherited, from the generations of genetic bases and from town and from hinterlands, and cries and sings from stone, fields, hard land, mountains and falkušas, it seems that such your vocal cords are becoming more and more ready to hear,
remember and transmit the gusts of some other winds from that general world, from the mood of some other ornaments and weddings and other people's joys and sorrows and raising joy and breaking sorrows.
Don't overlook the mature question here:
If a song is being snatched from your throat, it runs, they steal it away, in iris of your eyes they erase and fade ornaments from the clothes of your ancestors, there stop walk and mind then shout,
shout: who wants to colonize my horizons, imagination, thinking, my power of image, pictorial representation, who gradually and destructively in my mind transforms my, only my true, inherited, living world of the century and replaces it with sounded images from the world of delusion.
Well, he roughly replaces my own illusions, realized ones, with theoretical illusionism, with the rule of his reasons over my imagination, which makes you and us special, unrepeatable
