feel that this is not my voice. My voice is a whisper that generates heart-rending thunder, a spark that ignites the air. I am very more lethal, do not give opinions, not speaking, not me uncomfortable to get out words for you to clarify your mouths, to prevent someone from my face snort. Because when that happens, it's too late. This
you are hearing is the your voice. He comes to visit you straight from consciousness, ports to hot for me.
note some pleasing texture: fascinates you keep me in hand and discovered light and heavy at the same time, and turn from left to right palm and vice versa, weighing at each change of hand to answer the riddle, you transmit a sense of security.
You will also notice the elegance: the walnut finish. add to my lethal efficacy across a refined aesthetic that makes me an object of worship as a mere ornament.
Well, do not resist, and what I read on, drawing on the blackboard of your consciousness, you transmit. Do as I tell you then.
front of the mirror, face to face with yourself, think about what you learned from the movies: a t-shirt can be large enough to cover a revolver placed just above the seats: the natural inarcatura low back is enough to Hiding a gauge dimensions. Test; infilamni their pants with beak downward, pulling his shirt off, get the profile and see if it shows. Try walking back and forth, turns a little ' home.
Then do this, it is a speed-gun test: always in the mirror - this time placed in front of you - you estrarmi the lumbar spine without one in front of you noticing, and see if - in less than no time - you can stretch your arms forward and point me in the snout. If you also want to pronounce a sentence of a threat with profanity of your choice.
Although the movements are awkward - let me tell you, I who have given so many are not you the most good - you feel that you have had a sort of test that will promote the elite caste of men, to that category of men who are masters of other men. To those born to the leaders. There are rumors about
che gli uomini sono nati diversi e che la pistola li ha resi uguali ; ed effettivamente grazie alle armi da fuoco anche il più mingherlino (prendo te come esempio perché ti ho qui, ma non ti offendere) potrebbe prevalere sul virile. Ma la stessa frase circola anche nel suo significato opposto: dire che gli uomini sono nati uguali e la pistola li ha resi diversi è un po' come dire che chi ha in mano una pistola è colui che comanda, chi non ha in mano niente è colui che è spacciato.
Quale di queste due versioni ti piace di più?
Penso di averlo già capito: la tua faccia appagata lascia bene poco spazio ai dubbi. Si vede chiaramente quanto serrarmi in questa gabbia di carne che è la your right hand makes you feel feverish and excited.
Do you want to make the big step. Want to try to pull the trigger, I know.
But if you try to slowly bend the index to find out that the resistance is too hard for a man like you soft. Feel the sore finger: a gesture is unnatural for you, you are not used in everyday life to flex the index of strength. Some
bead of sweat appears on your forehead. It is not at all do what you're doing. Look at you. To focus on the gesture, you have abandoned the posture itself. Who do you think of fear in this pose softened?
Those legs should stand on the floor, not distract you even a moment, do not wear out. Who does not know violence is not the fear, but as soon as you leave it meets. And the voice from the right emphasis, takes out some bad word, turd rott'inculo! Dashing good ones arms forward, Christ, you need to see the revolver as an extension of your hand, will not help you feel stronger, if you do not feel strong you first. And another thing: you can not fire the first shot of a mirror of your life, you idiot. Take me out for a ride. Do as I tell you: it will be a real baptism of fire.
you are hearing is the your voice. He comes to visit you straight from consciousness, ports to hot for me.
note some pleasing texture: fascinates you keep me in hand and discovered light and heavy at the same time, and turn from left to right palm and vice versa, weighing at each change of hand to answer the riddle, you transmit a sense of security.
You will also notice the elegance: the walnut finish. add to my lethal efficacy across a refined aesthetic that makes me an object of worship as a mere ornament.
Well, do not resist, and what I read on, drawing on the blackboard of your consciousness, you transmit. Do as I tell you then.
front of the mirror, face to face with yourself, think about what you learned from the movies: a t-shirt can be large enough to cover a revolver placed just above the seats: the natural inarcatura low back is enough to Hiding a gauge dimensions. Test; infilamni their pants with beak downward, pulling his shirt off, get the profile and see if it shows. Try walking back and forth, turns a little ' home.
Then do this, it is a speed-gun test: always in the mirror - this time placed in front of you - you estrarmi the lumbar spine without one in front of you noticing, and see if - in less than no time - you can stretch your arms forward and point me in the snout. If you also want to pronounce a sentence of a threat with profanity of your choice.
Although the movements are awkward - let me tell you, I who have given so many are not you the most good - you feel that you have had a sort of test that will promote the elite caste of men, to that category of men who are masters of other men. To those born to the leaders. There are rumors about
che gli uomini sono nati diversi e che la pistola li ha resi uguali ; ed effettivamente grazie alle armi da fuoco anche il più mingherlino (prendo te come esempio perché ti ho qui, ma non ti offendere) potrebbe prevalere sul virile. Ma la stessa frase circola anche nel suo significato opposto: dire che gli uomini sono nati uguali e la pistola li ha resi diversi è un po' come dire che chi ha in mano una pistola è colui che comanda, chi non ha in mano niente è colui che è spacciato.
Quale di queste due versioni ti piace di più?
Penso di averlo già capito: la tua faccia appagata lascia bene poco spazio ai dubbi. Si vede chiaramente quanto serrarmi in questa gabbia di carne che è la your right hand makes you feel feverish and excited.
Do you want to make the big step. Want to try to pull the trigger, I know.
But if you try to slowly bend the index to find out that the resistance is too hard for a man like you soft. Feel the sore finger: a gesture is unnatural for you, you are not used in everyday life to flex the index of strength. Some
bead of sweat appears on your forehead. It is not at all do what you're doing. Look at you. To focus on the gesture, you have abandoned the posture itself. Who do you think of fear in this pose softened?
Those legs should stand on the floor, not distract you even a moment, do not wear out. Who does not know violence is not the fear, but as soon as you leave it meets. And the voice from the right emphasis, takes out some bad word, turd rott'inculo! Dashing good ones arms forward, Christ, you need to see the revolver as an extension of your hand, will not help you feel stronger, if you do not feel strong you first. And another thing: you can not fire the first shot of a mirror of your life, you idiot. Take me out for a ride. Do as I tell you: it will be a real baptism of fire.
° ° °
Hey hey hey ... I gave you some advice, but know you've done it all. There was my idea to do what you did not get to whine now with me, not thee mica led me to shoot. I never give advice, how could I?! I leave behind those who are wasted among you, if you have been unconvincing. Do not express opinions, not for me to review the legality of the act. I run [. Click!] And that you do not care.
I do not care about you, inflated balloon that now lie lifeless on the floor, legs apart, hands outstretched as if I wanted to embrace the world for the last time, and have not even had time to get rid of that half-smile . Maybe you had a red dot on his chest you have not even understood, perhaps you missed the gravity of the situation in cui ti eri cacciato nel momento in cui giunse rapido come un lampo il mio [.click!].
Allo stesso modo non mi importa di te, carnefice presuntuoso che come uno sfigato mimavi allo specchio il labbro storto di Sylvester Stallone. Un minuto prima pensavi di poter dominare le conseguenze di un gesto simile; e ora guardati: ridotto a una fontanella di sudore. Lo vuoi sapere cosa sei? Sei una sagoma di gesso sdraiata per terra in anticipo all'appuntamento con la scientifica. Guardati come tremi mentre mi serri ancora in quel pugno destro, troppo tremante per chiamarsi pugno. Non posso vederti in faccia ma sono sicuro che non avresti un bell'aspetto. E so per certo a cosa stai pensando: disfarti di me.
Dopo avermi ripulita da aloni pericolosi che permetterebbero di identicarti, mi dimenticherai da qualche parte per depistare le indagini, magari gettandomi da un'auto in corsa. Che non si colleghi a te il mio [.click!] o altrimenti passerai dei guai.
Ma non ti servirà a nulla tutto ciò. Io sono solo uno strumento, non giudico, ascolto le tue idee e non dico che non si può fare; eseguo. Il mio [.click!] è la proiezione delle vostre volontà che attiva il meccanismo che libera la pallottola. Vostro è il pensiero che genera l'azione, vostre sono le responsabilità del gesto e le conseguenze che ne derivano. Io resto fredda indifferente, la stessa di prima, con un colpo in meno nel tamburo.
Disfati pure di me, ma rimarrai per sempre condannato, uomo debole. Il senso di guilt that the first perceived slight slight, it is now intended to beat more and more nervous, and to swell like a cancer under the skin, and that gesture, that [. click!] a few moments ago felt as needed, you soon realize that it was not nothing but bullshit, we're not in a Tarantino movie, you're not John Wayne and that from now on every quavolta shit you hear a siren.
There is only one solution that you scagionerà from this, and my mouth does not recommend, again, all this you feel inside of you is the voice of your conscience. I can only offer you one last shot, a final [. Click!].
° ° °
In a few hours the room is full of men in uniform. I'm there on the ground, midway between the two bodies. You plot perimeters around bodies before they are lifted, placed in an ambulance and taken away in two sealed bags. The two gauges of plaster that appear to remain in their place of comic strips. To circumnavigate the perimeter of the truth. What is cooler than the body? Who made out of who? Only I know the truth, but as I said, I do not care.
I put in a bag along with other items that can help the investigation. Spoken spesso di me ai tg, ma non ci si chiede con abbastanza coraggio che fine farò. Dove finiscono tutte le armi usate negli omicidi? Forse in una grande stanza, in un'armeria dello Stato raggruppate in cassettoni: armi da fuoco qui, armi bianche là, esplosivi laggiù in fondo. Forse si ritroveranno, non si sa come, nella bottega dell'usato di qualche rigattiere, di nuovo sul mercato. Inquietante, vero? Forse vi inquieterebbe meno sapere che molto presto sbufferò ancora, perché gli uomini deboli sono molti, molti più di quanti voi [.click!] pensiate.