A gloomy day. The whole day it rains. He left his bookmaker office for his deputy, a young kid of 25 years, graduated from Harvard and is well versed in finance, but not like me. I like everything about him. A neat little beard Garibaldi, for which he diligently cares. I somehow got a haircut with him in the local elite beauty salon. He gave $ 2,400 to be trimmed. However, he can afford it, because I pay him well. But today is not such a day. Today is the day when I want to be alone, listen to Smooth jazz and enjoy the creations of Jeff Lorber and Chuck Loeb. And all this under the expensive opium, which I recently ordered from a local barman Jamaica, when I was in that very cozy elite club with a good drink and music. I know that he deceived me with the price, but I'm not used to trivializing. It was an expensive opium, the purest. 32 000 $ per gram. This tried only the graphs and the elite of the whole zemngo ball. And I saw 1000 gray-bearded old men who carried gifts to the baby. At the top of the pyramid, in the golden cradle. With a gold hoop on his head, which shone brighter than Soltzna. And beautiful virgins, pouring milk into crystal baths, to dip the baby there. And a young man emerging from milk, but not a baby. A milky-coffee-colored skin, naked and staring at me with cold blue eyes, cursing me for daring to look at him.