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Thread: Thus spake m. Solzhenitsof!

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    The book by solzhenitsof

    THE BOOK BY SOLZHENITSOF (In "To be continued" form)
    TOME II
    VOLUME II
    CHAPTER III


    He would not like jump from one point to another and sit down on the chair in the library... He, furthermore, appreciated his jumps in his adventure as positive love pains mixed with metaphysics, and pure science and politics. "Then who can have latched the door of the New Ottoman jail hindering my mind to think in a reasonable discipline?" retorted his conscience, "What did they want inventing genie tales? Why did they choose an innocent European intellectual as I would be forever because of my Russian blood boiling for the truth, only the truth forever? As all's discovered. Come what may!..." He remembered that after listening his mother he could have risen, stepped forward and unlatched the door of the New Prison Ottoman Prison-Genie Jail briefly.His room was so large that he could run around the table without touching the bed and yet the library was relatively the smallest room of the Brat's and he was to be standing frequently for all the books he has chosen from the shelves couldn't put on it together His mom stared at him in a cordially happy way. She glanced with a defiant and protective air at him who without a word was leafing the pages of several printed matters viz. not only books but booklets, magazines, and some other periodicals. "The main book of the New Ottoman Empire " he showed, as his mother gave him the daily news-papers. "From what sort of print house was it?" the mom asked. "A French one dedicated all it publications to the Mideast" replied he. She has found it very interesting "To be sold publicly or be sent to experts?... What for?..." He assured her, "I can tell you that for both." His mother looked at him attentively, looked round the library and turned to go away. He pondered, "I was downright ill!" and observed his changing attitude towards the dangerous subject-The Superstition, not taking his eyes off printed material. So much concentrated in the subject that he couldn't turn his head for a moment. "I wouldn't let the innocent people of the primitive neighbouring country-Turkey as I have been in the past," he punctuated his new approach.Igor Brat made no response regarding to hi aloud thinking and held not the any written word paper in his hands, without opening it. "Let me not absent minded then," he went on warning his mind compassionately, seeing that he was on his feet or in the reasonable mission of "Homo Sapiens, "You're not ill, anymore and so don't go back; run even if seeing there's no such hurry?" He looked; in his right hand he held the some pieces of papers he had cut from note books, some trifling periodicals etc. So he had been standing still with them in his hand. Afterwards reflecting upon the 'Mental Defect Of both New and old Ottomans viz. Genies', he remembered that half waking up in his fanciful perversions instigated by the academics of the greatest New Ottoman Empire's University viz. METU /KARAKUSUN, he grasped all documents tightly in his hand and so went on energetically, hopefully, and happily. Happily because he were too much near to the access of solutions to be reached simultaneously!He look at the papers he's collected and understood that he should be after much more documents in the genie problem or the case of the international mental health care, as though he has got hold of orders to shoulder the mission of exploring the ties between sexual and social problems of New Ottoman Intellectuals and the superstition as an obsession..." And he himself went off into his laughter that had been turned into hysterical giggles before a time when he too believed in the existence of genies. Instantly he thrust them all into a thick file and fixed his eyes intently upon the shelves to find new ones. Far as he was from not being capable of rational reflection at that moment, he felt that no one would behave like that with oneself who was going to heal a disease once he has suffered too. "But... the primitive-and yet the greatest-university of Turkey-METU/KARAKUSUN?" he hesitated. He reminded himself of the little Irish terrier sent him as the kitten belonging to Genie The Girl......"I'd better have some tea! Yes? I'll bring it," he revoked the minutes. " From the birth to grave there would be something to refresh ourselves." "No... I'm going on to read on genies-the only invention of Turkey in the history since Ataturk who had tried to revoke the civilization from Egyptians, ancient Greeks and other Indo-Europeans; I'll go on with it," he muttered decisively walking to and fro. His mom showing herself behind the semi open door "Why, you'll never do without some tea at intervals!"
    "Yes, I'll go."
    "As you please."
    Instead of his momentarily enthusiasm he followed the mom and got a cup of tea from the kitchen.At once he sipped the high quality aroma condensed tea then rushed to the light oozing from the door of library to examine the all sort of documents he has chosen. "There are too much upshots following every written material, but half of them not very noticeable; all covered with details on aged pages crinkled and already discoloured." he remarked, "No one who had no suspicion could distinguish anything about the Genie History of The Ottoman Empire and new Ottomans who were winning constantly at polls selling genie tales. His mother too from a distance could have noticed the funny historical genie portraits flowing through the historical documents!" Awhile with a slightly strike he open the most significant title book the he began reading; he was a long while reading, before he understood. It was an ordinary superstitious claim of New Ottomans Turkey's from the Turkish Ayatollah F. GULEN who didn't like the would be caliph for hoe would better to be the new caliph instead of T.ERDOGAN. Fake Ayatollah wrote "But when has such a thing happened? RTE never have anything to do with the Islamic leadership! And why just while he prohibited Mathematics and Physics in Turkish schools?" Obviously he thought in agonising bewilderment. "Good God, RTE forbid sciences only and yet I used to use them as material making them the subjects of the Science Olympics" I have invented rigging them with belly dances!"The knowledge he was obtaining from the book has made his blood frozen first then boiling so he-over every pretext he could use-was flinging himself on his knees to pray, and broke into a strange cry. He also began, hurriedly tracing new clues concerning the subject, "If New Ottomans who prohibited mathematics and physics lost, they are lost, I don't care!" And very speedily-or rather no sooner-had he picked up some new printed material on The Superstition to give humans loathing and horror. He underlined some statements, "That's not all conventional, that's far from of being relative, not for merely a way of looking at it," he thought in a flash.Essentially his consideration was quickly followed by musing DE PROFUNDIS. "Yes, it's my right reaching too much upshots useful both for us-Eastern Europeans and the brethren of ours namely The West including NATO..." he thought. His lips were in peens and needles from smiling broad, "Maybe from excess happiness," he muttered. His head swam and swayed with crazy happiness. "It's not the result of our tricks and yet The New Ottomans as their ancestors the science loathing hordes of The Ottoman Empire they want to destroy mathematics and physics there and confound themselves over nothing, say everything," he mused! . He was very happy in reaching such good materials open to be used in enlightening The Mankind about the superstition...He was looking up the writers that had left such good documents to the humanly thought heritage and then he remembered that in the famous novel viz. 'The Devils' Dostoyevsky had been writing all the things relating to the superstitiously evil and unbelievably unexpected ... 'And what do you think? Suddenly, almost at the time I proposed printing it here, our poem was published abroad in a collection of revolutionary verse, without the knowledge of S. T. He was at first alarmed, rushed to the governor, and wrote a noble letter in self-defence to Petersburg.' Remembering just as the writers defining the primitive behaviours of the people were in such dangers!And it might have been very likely, something more than 'danger' was that New Ottomans had translated the name of Dostoyevsky's novel-The Devils as The Genies whether on purpose or not for this misdemeanour should be the subject of research one might reach the heartrending upshot that neither New Ottomans nor Their Ancestors viz. The Ottomans of The Ottoman Empire could not make-no matter good or evil-yes, could not make anything on purpose" he thought, and stopped short otherwise he would swear the neighbouring country-Turkey. But he was possessed by such angry, even a great vindictive sense, if one might so call it, that with a wave of genie tales has been inflicting to him miserable suffering over 'The Superstition'. From that time he spent in the primitive neighbouring country's greatest university namely METU/KARAKUSUN until now he should have tried only to get superstition as his genie adventure over!" In the library the book based cultural was reasonable again; he would not let a drop of 'Irrational' to fall from his mouth. Yes, he ought to make his best from the point of his city project again especially after having seen the dust spread over the dirty green leaves of sporadic trees around the Turkish university mentioned before, the bricks and mortar availing everywhere but the places they might be needed! He remembered the air pollution irritating his eyes, so that it hurt him to make any observation, and he felt his head going round as a newborn camel would be apt to feel when he follow the caravan towards the weak water springs on a dazzling sunny day.

    When he reached the turning point in his domestic library after exhausted-if not fallen in an agony of overexertion he looked down the little terrier-guest at the house and at once averted his eyes because of feeling for it... "If they sent it to me as a pet friend, perhaps I'll simply tell," if it accept my friendship, why not?" The city where the kitten had been sent was too far from Saint Petersburg and couldn't be half the noble as Petersburg has been always. Instead it had been moved to its new house it was looking happy and energetic. Might be it had been once for all its life in any old but luxury home for the first time. While he was turning to left at the joining dimension of the library towards the southeast the library had got more bookshelves , and he saw on the right a violate tinged lines of stalks whereof a pile of periodicals was protruding with bitter yellow and top pastel brownies on several paper covers. "A bouquet of genie stories , no doubt; so then, the pole whereon to make the most condense search here," and he began ascending and descending the shelves on the chance. He did not want to find any absolute one to knock out the superstition yet. "I'll go in my room, fall on my knees before the corner where Genie The Girl abides as I knew once and confess everything to the genie girl..." he thought, as he does reach nowhere. Was actually he searching for anything? For the time being it viz. response on purpose will be "No!" His room was serene, wide, enhancing and all strait its carpets longitude with clear air: bluish, cool, strong, cosy, and lovable. He understood at that moment that the source of Ottoman Genie Stories could only be of 'The Platonic Love' not 'The Superstition'...The room was still full of the fanciful shadows reflecting from the shadow of meanings related to the girl genie. The genie adventures could be fed-even over fed-by the versatile definitions of the people dream liking and fancy having been addict like FUNDUS UNGUIUM should go to the depths of meat. So there was a lovely and unreal framework, and the corners having been crowded with pieces of furniture, genies, and shadows going up and down with changing lights. The door of the office, still, stood wide open matching to the indoors tripping of the kitten. He at times stood waiting nothing within. There, the heat was stable and there was no sickening smell of anything as it was in the kitchen time to time because of olive oil from the newly open big bottles on the freely decorated main table. After waiting a little, he decided to return the library to refresh this time the reason period of his mental and reflexive. All fearful impatience could draw him on and on till any kind of dilemma It would be very nice to pay no attention to himself for the genie-or rather superstition-based ailment was to be healed by remission and bound dualities as love and hatred or believing in God and pursuing the devil alternantly. In the library he sat writing, and his mother looked at him from behind the door dressed a la mode than she used to, and rather with a high society type looking. She too went up to one of shelves and picked up some printed material. "What is it?" asked Igor Brat showing any tome whereof the brinks had been gilded. And yet she showed a pamphlet she had got in hand, and explained swiftly something that could be commented sardonically, "You were the best student in the lyceum you had attended, and this is your favourite manual of positive sciences, do you remember it?" He answered glancing at the thick material, "Yes mom, and I'm sure you are trying to contribute my healing over reminding me of positive sciences." "She talked in a speedy way, "Yes, you are formerly a brilliant student of Russian schools dignified and famous. Remember your brilliantly high level education and keep your soul open to healthy ways of thought and closed against every assault of superstitious trifles." Igor Brat looked at her, but without the slightest interest. He was temporarily a stolid person with the look of a fixed idea in his eye.He parleyed kindly, "There would be no getting anything out of it, because positive science has not interest in everything," and continued "Mom, go in my room please, and try to catch any impulse from the corners where in might be the genies are abiding, or rather hiding, without the disturbing the kitten," pointing towards the his room. She went into that place God knows how manyth time; it was the same room and not packed full of genies or another creatures, rather much more serene and silent than to be in before. Amongst the pieces of furniture were two balls the little terrier would play.

    Their poorly dressed servant in working hours , stood up in the hallway opposite the flat's door, waiting some new orders from the side of Mr. Brat's mom. The other visible character-the forth one or the kitten with a purplish-red tongue licking the air when breathing excessively smart and spoiled was standing on one side, apparently waiting for another thing that that of the blue collar worker. Igor Brat thrust his notice upon the scarf of the servant saving her hairs from dusty procedures of the house cleaning. The latter glanced at his mom, yawning as if saying: "Wait a minute, and don't go on attending to the invisible, superstitious lady-Genie The Girl."More protruding tongue the kitten could show easier it could breathed, easier and more freely. "It can't be mistress!" it must have pondered. Beginning by degrees to regain confidence, and it kept urging himself to have courage and be calm. As for Igor Brat getting better and better he uttered "More superstitious trifling and carelessness, and I might betray myself! " he added, "it's refreshing now.... It makes one's head least dizzier than ever, and one's mind too." He was conscious of a silky atmosphere in the house escorted by inner healing. He was not afraid of losing his self-control in genie adventures at all; he tried to catch at the key words of The New Ottoman's wry mind on The Genie, something one could qualify the most irrational way of thinking, and he could succeed in enlightening all superstitious silliness of both The Ottoman Empire and the new Ottomans. Yet the head of the house-Mr. Brat's mom wouldn't greatly interested in the political history, she kept hoping to see through him and guess something from his face regarding to the ailment caused by The Superstition, say, those genie tales of Turkey's greatest university-METU*/KARAKUSUN. According to Igor Brats mother her son was a very young man, about two and thirty if his smooth face that looked younger than his years. He was not at the most fruitful age to deal with invisible girls as Genie The Girl to conquer the tea parties, receptions etc. over his peerless figure foppish, elegant and fashionably dressed. He ought to be able to speak English and to repeat all words, or rather expressions in French to foreigners in the high society activities. "You little terrier you can sit down where you would prefer," she murmured casually to the gaily breathing, who was still wandering around as though not venturing to sit down, though there was many chairs beside it. "MERCIE BEAUCOUP," she talked to her son who was turning the pages of a book softly to show some genie images drawn by new Ottomans, with a half mute noise as rustling of a silk neck-tie. Igor Brat remarked that the Ottomans were afraid of nothing while they would represent even the pornographic paintings of genie girls. Their green, blue, red, yellow skirts might be long or midi and yet they should be painted as naked sweethearts their undesirable hairs on their bodies trimmed as laces or well shaven on certain points and epilated in a broad region including their legs and armpits..Igor Brat, after attracting the attention to the printed material put that new Ottoman's half cartoon book of genies on the table and sat down in an easy-chair beside his mom. His mother skipped from her seat on seeing the interesting document, and fell to praising his son's studies in a sort of ecstasy; but the little Irish terrier took not the smallest notice of them, and it did not venture to sleep in a place near to their presence. The kitten was behaving as if it was the superintendent at home. Scrutinizing the little Irish terrier Igor Brat and his mom cried together: The primitive hordes must have time while interesting in genies whereas the people of Indo-European civilisation could observe the miraculously big, very big even unbelievable psychology of the animal. The kitten had a colourless moustache that sagged vertically on each side of its face, and extremely small eyes, expressive of nothing much except a certain alert ready to yelp even to gnarl. At the periods of Igor Brat's genie crisis it looked askance and rather indignantly at him for he was to rush so very badly into the room, to compel him to a humiliating position.Igor Brat, having forgotten Genie The Girl or rather that repugnant tale had unwarily fixed a very long and direct look on the little Irish terrier. As if shouting "What do you want?" it yelped, apparently astonished that such a great man was attracted by its humble existence. "I summon you by my eyes" Igor Brat laughed loudly.

    *This university claims that the genie girls to be made darling by gentlemen shall be being grown on the branches of Heaven Trees
    Make search for "VAK VAK AGACLARI" in google please!


    THE BOOK BY SOLZHENITSOF
    TOME II
    VOLUME III
    CHAPTER I

    He spent some minutes then going from the library to his room. Afterwards he turned up and sang,

    "Brutus was the famous"
    "Alumnus"
    "Brilliant and yet a tyrant,"
    "Began to cut his"
    "Boss!"

    He treated the kitten and his mom; he was particularly drawn to the genie adventure by the fact that the rational and the irrational both had crooked notions , one bent to the right and the other to beyond the right.He took-just at that point-his mood through the "search" in library to a pleasure garden of positive muse, for which he had paid "genie adventure sufferings for his entrance. There was one fanciful object rather a lanky vague time-old VAK-VAK tree whereof the lady genies could be gathered to jeer as picking up apples for gobbling besides history and animal psychology which was in reality a thinking desk where tea memories too which was served as a special gift from his mom over ornamented tables and curved chairs standing round. While he was inflicted by brain aches created by the impulses of superstition that had been radiated from The Aladdin Lamp and fed by a chorus of wretched Ottoman Muslim Clerics like F.GULEN-The Turkish Ayatollah who could weep as the worst bat of the worlds and his followers were drunken by radical Islamic beverage namely religiously brewed hashish; cheerful but exceedingly depressed Pennsylvanian clown from The USA with a huge nose to teach Islamic secret terror-threatening even Pennsylvania-to the public. The cleric quarrelled with some followers and a new crime debut to eradicate the Kurds in the North Kurdistan in Anatolia seemed imminent.According to Igor Brat-as a good Russian Samaritan- he was-in the genie adventure of his- was chosen-by God- to decide the dispute so he should decide which one should be available over humanly speculations. He listened to the fanciful voices-the voices of heathen Ottomans, some innocent Bulgarians or Greeks seduced by the heathens for a quarter of a millennium at least,-and the speeches of the mom defending only reasonable deductions but they shouted so loud that there was no possibility of understanding neither 'The Irrational' nor 'Rational. The only fact that seemed to Igor Brat certain was that each of them had stolen something from the other-as in quantum theory-and had even succeeded in selling it on the spot both to the scholars and students but would not share the spoil with other sides. Finally it appeared that the stolen object was springing from the dilemma betwixt the energy and matter belonging to nowhere. Instead the particle of God wasn't missed in CERN the affair seemed troublesome still. Igor Brat making masturbation-using an Ottoman Genie-had paid already for the spoonful matter or its energy as big as a Dodo-could get up, and walked out of his room as in the past. It was about none o'clock. He had drunk a drop of vodka all this time and made him a cup of tea for the sake of appearances than anything. It wasn't dark as in stifling evenings nor dazzling alight. In this season thereof having got any name threatening storm-clouds might come over the sky... About none o'clock. Could there be a bursting thunder, and might the rain come down like the juicy waste pissed by the kitten or a waterfall. Could, if there were no time and no place the water fall not in drops or beat on the earth in streams. while there were flashes of lightning no minute and each flash lasted while one could count nil. Igor Brat put a blanket on his shoulders as if drenched to the skin, he went kitchen for quitting there instantly for not locking himself in anywhere but the library!Having got a lot of money in his pocket, at the bank, and at the bankers he was about to take a decision in serving people through opening new public libraries in every direction of Saint Petersburg, but, looking-at the city full of city project faults-out of the window and listening to the senseless noise but the rain, he gave up the idea! He went straight to his room and called the little Irish terrier whistling. It was going through a special training at home, and began to understand the signals-calling for him like a whistle-beside responding them.It was not alone in going through an extra curriculum for the servant was also hearing such terms or rather scientifically meaningful words that while giving service, say, giving them tea was listening to interesting dialogues filled with information about all sorts of beverages say nothing of tea alone. She received at times Igor Brat in respectful silence, looking wonderingly at the books or other printed materials in his hand. Once Mr. Brat sat down at the table and asked the servant to sit beside him. She timidly prepared to listen. "I may be going to get married with a genie-Genie The Girl..."Madam Ivanovo" , said Igor Brat "as I am probably seeing you for the last time before wedding of mine with Genie The Girl, I need must to make some arrangements. Well, did you see the lady Genie to-day? I'd like to know what she said to you, you need not tell me." Madam Ivanovo-she answered to this queer name-made a movement and blushed, "I don't know getting in touch with genies and how those creatures...err.. excuse me sir, I don't know how I should call them too besides having not known their own way of doing things. As to your mother and your kitten or rather kitten guest, they are also seeming really not provided with the techniques to get in touch with them. If there is any big money you assigned to them I can put into safe keeping-visiting banks, exchange bureaus, share holding markets from A to Z, namely from that of New-York to the money market of Paris and might have received acknowledgments. In the case of hiring me for this purpose you had better take charge of the receipts, in case anything happens. Here you are my respectful master my opinions related to all genies including your...err...fiancé namely Genie The Girl, take them please as cordial opinions of mine your humble servant!" Igor Brat thanked her, "Well now, that's settled. Here are three nil-per-cent bonds to the value of three zero billion Australian dollars. Don't take those for yourself, they nothing in visibility so entirely for genies!"

    Then Igor Brat added, "and let that be strictly between ourselves, so that no one knows of it, whatever Genie The Girl, my mom, you hear. The genies may need the money, for to go on living in the old ages, madam blue collar, and besides there is no need for it now." Madam blue collar remarked, "If they were they shall be so much indebted to you, and so are the children of theirs and old parents," and went on hurriedly, "and if They've said nothing till now... please don't consider..." Igor Brat having been worn out by the absolute silence of genies cried, "That's enough! that's enough!" Madam blue collar continued, "But as for the money, Igor Bratov Igorovitch, they shall be very grateful to you indeed, and yet maybe they don't need it now. Genies as far as I have been taught by peddlers can always earn their own living. Don't think them ungrateful..." Mr. Brat shouted that very time, "It's for them, Lady Rabotova, let me call you so that addressing linked to blue collars at all, and please don't waste words over it. I haven't time for it. They will want it." Igor Brat had two alternatives: Believing in genies and allocate some money for them or remaining in his rational way of life and not to be spendthrift . (The servant looked wildly at him, and started.) "Don't be uneasy, I don't know anything about Genie The Girl and I am not a gossip; I won't tell anyone." Igor Brat laughed loudly, "It was good advice when you told Genie The Girl to give herself up and confess. It would be much better for her. Well, if it turns out to be visibility in life, she will seen and I will not follow her. That's so, isn't it? And if so, she'll need money. She'll need it for her parents too, do you understand? Giving it to her is the same as my giving it to her." Adding to his enthusiasm some kind of gaiety he uttered, "Besides, you could promise everybody for you a confident person to pay what's to be paid to the last rouble. I heard about your ability in the procedure. how you can you undertake such obligations without an atom's weight while heeding to every details... Is it okay madam? It was my debt and not yours, so you ought not to have taken any notice of the amount through which you can pay in a standard all over the world like that. If you are ever questioned about me by Genie The Girl don't say anything about my requesting you to fulfil what you have just been asked now to do and don't show the money to anyone or say a word about it. Well, may God be with us." • He got up to get into his room wrapped with cloudy imaginations-if not hallucinations-, "My greetings to Genie The Girl" said he, "By the way, you'd better put the money for the present in my mom's keeping. You know my mother is a meticulous one in money affairs, Okay? Of course you do. All speculations aside mom is not a bad matron. Take it to her in a convenient time... when the time comes. And till then, hide it carefully." The servant jumped up from her chair and looked in dismay at Igor Brat, "But your mom don't believe that there are three genies in your room." She longed to speak, to ask a question, and she did not dare and did not know how to begin, "How can I... and how can you be going on with self condolences regarding the end of unreal existences now, in such a absurdity of the superstition?"All the more he was rebuking insistently. "Why, be starting for "Irrational", and be stopped by "Rational"! Ha, ha! Good morning lady blue collar, my dear! Live and live long, you will be of use to others forever, and please don't grudge this money transferring to genies. By the way if you could speak to the father of Genie The Girl, say most probable father viz. one of the elder genies beside her tell him I send my greetings to him." The muscles of the servant's face was twitching with this sudden surprise of her master, " Why sire, should I tell him that you send him your greetings. I'm sure you are in touch with genies much more than ı could be for I don't believe that they are living in your room. Now milord, suppose they are there lying on back or standing up somewhere adjacent to your bed whereto I even couldn't touch then why should I must be chosen to talk with them say nothing of money transferring to them? Excuse me milord if I went too far..."He budged downright and backed to his room out, to lie on back at any convenient place, say his or Genie The Girl's bed leaving the servant standing alone in a state of wondering anxiety and vague apprehension. It appeared afterwards that at the same time he asked himself if there could be a bed of the girl genie in the condition that her existence was still disputable and even eccentric and unexpectedly vague, turbid. The reasonable way of life of a well educated Russian intellectual still persisted in denying the ridiculous or rather superstitiously claimed life of genies, and to some extent, mocked such a speculation. Drenched with sweat to the skin, he walked into the magnificent room where his mom reading the daily newspapers. He knocked some time before he was admitted, and his visit at first caused great perturbation for his mother was getting too much angry that his son would be falling into, say, convulsions of genies; but she would be very fascinating when she heard that Igor Brat suspected about the truth of invisible creatures like genies, so that the first, and indeed very intelligent surmise of the sensible parent that he had probably could be so much to ponder that he did not know what he was doing vanished immediately. So his mom jumped from her armchair to see Mr. Brat by the tender and sensible mother, who as usual would begin the conversation with various childish questions. She should never reply a direct question of his, but began by smiling and rubbing his hands...

    And then, as if she were obliged to ascertain something-for instance, when Igor Brat would like to have the wedding-she would begin by interested and almost eager questions about the candidates of the brides from the girls of New York aristocracy and the court life there in Sweden, and only by degrees brought the conversation round to the parish of their house. On other occasions this had of course been very impressive, but this time Igor Brat seemed particularly impatient, and insisted on seeing the wedding alliance decorating his finger that would remind him of his new civil position not berserk and yet bound with a fiancé at once! His fiancé of course should have appeared in his presence before wedding for he was afraid of the probability of being married Genie The Girl. As for his mother she would have preferred to shout at him furiously but he instantly informed her at once that he was obliged by very important affairs to leave Petersburg for a time, and therefore there could be no chance for the convulsions to be inflicting on him over genie plague-the one and only production of ailment makers viz. old and new Ottomans-attacks, and he would offer Genie The Girl one million roubles and begged her accept them as a present from him while finishing his genie adventure. As he had long been seeming to stick to this trifling superstition until the wedding, he incensed flares in the mental health rather serenity in her soul, and she intended to give a good thresh catching her antic umbrella from somewhere anyhow. Within the view of new logical connection of the present rationalism soothing the strained relationship between his mom and him his immediate breaking off with "The reason" drew mad the woman and the absolute necessity of meeting with her the for that purpose in regaining peace immediately was not sufficient to make clear the rate of his healing in superstition induced ailment. Actually it all should go off very well; even the inevitable ejaculations of, obsession based crisis of his, her mom's wonder and regret, and those inevitable facts were to be made extraordinarily few and restrained. On the other hand, the mutual tenderness both mom and her son should have expressed was strong enough, and was reinforced by kindness from the most sensible manners of Mr. Brat and his mother. So Igor Brat embraced her, laughed, kissed her cheeks, declared he would soon come to his senses, and noticing in her eyes, together with childish curiosity, a sort of earnest gentleman though he felt sincere anger hindered to be sensed outwardly! He suddenly saw the kitten that run away, leaving them all in a state of extraordinary excitement carrying to the minds the existence of Genie The Girl-its mistress, but the tender mamma, speaking quietly in a half whisper, settled some of the most important of their doubts, concluding that his son -Igor, was a great man, great enough to cope with the affairs related to silly superstitions. Actually he would start off on a new adventure one could call anti-adventure and make donations to the people wriggling in needs just as the fancy took him, so that there was nothing surprising about real character being a good Russian Samaritan. When his mother talked on reason he thought reasonable things: designs, notions, methodological principles and the like. and yet it was strange that he was behaving rationally through he believe that genies' existence was true, but as a Russian conservative, liberal, and well educated intellectual he could still be tending to go astray, for instance, he would be even more eccentric in the presence of people of standard life like their servant, and didn't think of what was said of them in the way of reasonable behaviour, and of course this tendency of his might be harmful giving the kitten possible sway, indeed, it looked for the time being like doing anything not on purpose but ready to go berserk. Maybe having plunged into anything as the genie adventure of his Igor Brat had been to show that he was not afraid of invisible bodies. Above all, not any attempt should be tried in it, say nothing for the absolute truth that God knows what might come of it, and the money allocated for Genie The Girl must be locked up, and it was most fortunate that their servant should not have left the kitchen. And above all not a word must be said to the little Irish terrier so on and so on. They could sit up whispering for hours about the genie girl amazed and rather sorrowful. Igor Brat meanwhile, exactly at that moment, crossed the hall on the way back to his room not to be thinking of Genie The Girl for the weird effect had ceased in his psychology. And yet there was a roaring wind of memoirs all related to Genie The Girl. He began shivering, and for one moment he gazed at the height as a black hole below the window with a look of special interest planning to throw The Superstition out of it. But he soon felt it very hard to find the genies, to catch them for doing away with them.Inasmuch as he gave start to a promenade along the endless corridors of the house for a long time, almost for big minutes, more than once stumbling in the dark on the stool near to the entrance of bathroom, but continually looking for something on each sides of the home entrance. He had noticed passing through one of the doors-belonging to nowhere?- lately that there was some other stools somewhere towards the east end of the house end, but fairly large ones, and their common name he remembered was something like The Pole. He was not mistaken: they were so conspicuous in that God-sacred place that he could not fail to see it even in the dark. They were high, remarkable masterpieces made of wood...And in spite of the late period of his genie adventure there were still impulses in the speculations of his and signs of irrational obsessions within. All in all he didn't like go in superstition as before and remembered the principles of the Greatest Victory of the Europeans having overwhelmed the genie type amorphous Ottoman heroes in the history: Some ragged fellows trying to escape from the European Military Courts their judged having been righteousness lover English, Russian, French judges who met with an abominable knockout by the good Gulf Arabs.

    As for the corridors whereof the richly in variety induced doors of every room from the point of Igor Brat's view, there were a lot of details matching to scanning and falling into dizziness he couldn't pull himself together before their outer decorations and they might have led him at once to a close and tiny carpets leading from a certain distance at the end of the corridors and all these various peculiarities could attract of the people fond of superstitious matters-or rather no real matters. Mr. Brat looked at each one of the doors inquiringly, yes inquiringly because there were no semblance betwixt them. "Had there been any requisition?" asked Igor Brat while thinking aloud. "Yes, sir," replied the servant unexpectedly, "would you like what else-apart from the ornaments- is there behind the doors?" Igor Brat laughed "Vodka?"
    -"No sire..."
    "Bring me a cup of tea and pistachio nuts in a copperplate"
    "And you want nothing else?" she asked with apparent surprise.
    "Nothing at all, thanks" The servant went away, completely disillusioned. "My house must be a nice place," thought Igor Brat. "How was it I didn't appreciate it? I expect I look as if I came from a nowhere to nowhere...And I have had some adventure on the way. It would be interesting to know who stayed in the rooms here when I had been a sibling?" He would rather having lighted the candles and looked at the rooms more carefully. All rooms were so high-pitched that Igor Brat could only just look at the ceiling from a distant not to discern every figures designed on the by the painters or by the years past. They had several windows; wardrobes, tables, beds, drawers even samovars on them which were very clean...And the stainless steel utensils here and there, ornamented chairs having filled them up interested Igor Brat regarding his genie adventure. The walls looked as though they were made of golden, covered with luxury paper, that couldn't be torn and free of dust...

    FINALE

    For the servant girl is still young, a thousand little signs within the corridors thereto several excellently ornamented doors would be opening tell Igor Brat that as he had fallen into the marriage delirium and adored an imaginary sweetheart he used to call Genie The Girl he could offer marriage to the servant. Indeed his sub-consciousness seemed very dusty-if not dirty- her brain must have been blotted by Ottomans-The Primitive Masters of Genies, and his wife ought to clean it as she could clean the house. Perhaps he should clean it himself but he would not let his delirium chasing or rather challenging him to pant on to the critical age regarding marriage, not to speak of having got healthy Russian children to govern The Asia in the future for the sake of The Father-The Jesus Christ. And the new generations of his family shouldn't let the new Ottomans think that they could protect their irrational way of life without thinking. So Igor Brat was musing "I do not think I am wrong in saying that those superstition induced stolid approach of Ottomans no matter the remnants of The ottoman Empire or New Ottomans to the future of The Mankind and shall not take place in the brilliant centuries based on book culture and are coming faster and faster than the old good days did. I have that feeling or some kind of preparations to offer my alliance to our servant my future sweet fiancé , I have had it now for some moments to obtain my reason for crediting it. And it differ from those genie delirium that have abused me ever since I have get acquaintance with historical pesters-Ottomans. Igor Brat went on, "Yes, that is the kind of guaranty I do rise to any more. I could offer marriage to the servant girl to-day, since I wish, merely by making a little effort, if I can do it. But it is just as well to let myself be born again and again, quietly, without giving pains to mom. Something must be done. I will be able to weigh upon the balance better. I shall be rational and happy, and my happiness will be different from that of those following 'The Irrational' for it won't be inert and infertile. No difficulty there. The guests to be invited to the wedding ceremony are not trouble, I mustn't be on my guard against them, they are the friends of my family. Maybe I am less given to them, since my childhood. Notwithstanding I had my little fits of impatience before, from time to time, now I can be on my guard against them!Without exaggeration to be sure, quietly musing and smiling, he could do every accommodations reasonably, naturally at last, he should suffer no more, then less, without drawing any superstitious conclusions, he should pay much more heed to himself, I should be neither rational nor irrational any more, I should be reasonable for "The Rational" and "The Irrational" would amount to the same thing: Mathematics whereof both rational and irrational numbers are available yet without enthusiasm to be silly or giving up reason. He should not try watch how genies would wriggle that would spoil everything in the humanly notions of the action. Had he to make genie or rather invisible creature observation? Had he ever complained of not being able to see the invisible? Then why not sharing the same bed with the unseen-The Female generally? He was content to the point of clapping his hands to congratulate his great victory over the Old and new Ottomans-The Masters of trifling matters as dealing with the science(!) of genies. He was too much content with his victory in attracting the world's attention to understand the silly Ottomans getting to be excessively harmful for humanly progress, knowing he would not be repaid or applauded but appreciated. He shouldn't even try to ask himself any more. While making love with his wife and producing good Russian children to be taking the place of Alexander Great, Pastor, Andre Gide, Abraham Lincoln, Reagan and Gorbachev, And their mother would tell stories to them in the way of growing as great Europeans. They would not be the same kind of siblings hence as their parents should do, that is all. They will be strong characters beyond being beautiful or nice and witty, they will be calm, there will be no ugliness or beauty or fever in their dreams, they will be almost life saving as American's Dream. What was that he imagined? It does matter, very importantly it does matter. He would look forward to their giving him great satisfaction. He would be satisfied, there, he had enough, he was to be well understood if not appreciated, He needed nothing more. He could claim that before I gained more than he expected he should forgive no Ottomans who were dangerous from the point of education over genie tales. He wished them all a wrecked future and then the fires of civil wars and famine not because rainless weather but of torrents hell and having got execrable generations to destruct even their destructions. Enough for the finale of the book, huh?







    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 06-15-2015 at 04:59 PM.

  2. #242
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    A pc moment of solzhenitsof

    A PC MOMENT OF SOLZHENITSOF
    (New Romantic Russian Novel)
    PART I
    CHAPTER I

    This time is no time as it be always. And yet I know when I am living for it is no longer the time turns. If there is nothing to turn we cannot know when we are... Since life is a game, I am going to pray not to suffer from anything. I knew how to play with life or rather how to let the life to play with me, till now: Pray and work. I longed always to work when I was listening to Smetana, to default from office, to deprave a lady in order to go bed and mate superficially but I knew counting types of work was impossible. I know that 'default' is not the word after adding to it 'from the office' and yet I often tried it. So I took a good look all round to find anything to fill for the time, and I began to understand the weird construction of The Secret Soviet State in Turkey reading what I saw in tabloids. Alas people explain nothing better than to distort explanations. All should go well at on the contrary of my first experiences when I had been young while they had not come to me, pleased that someone should want to share any play with me, say, directing an orchestra, commanding certain troops or being more active in political affairs of the country-Turkey where I had been sojourned. Yes having been sojourned not being a good-or bad-citizen. Instead of gaining nil as a starting point I was as happy as punch, and was going to perform nothing within the rules of the highest discipline I had been taught by my grandfather by my mother side migrated from Russia. It did not occur to me that I might have to ask any prime minister in Turkey to undress. But it was necessary for understanding the weird mechanism of survival of The Secret Soviet in Turkey. Once I would just ask one of them if she-at that time the PM was a lady-might be undressed for my sake not long before I found myself alone, in the pitch dark, as darker than ever. . That is why I gave up my observations regarding to the devilish inner and outer tricks of The Turkish Soviet which took to itself for ever shapelessness but much more dangerous than AIDS and speechlessness while throttling the European journalists using the knife of IS-Islamic State. Its most conspicuous-actually-pseudo opponent namely Turkish Ayatollah F.GULEN would be hiding while involving in the bloody case of slain Armenian Journalist . Such is the infliction from which, for nearly half a century now, I have never been able to be salvaged. I'd like it will be, from now on, different essentially I shall never do anything from now on but pray and work. No, I wouldn't preferred to begin with an exaggeration. But perhaps I shall succeed in exaggeration any better than hitherto. Methinks having been able to conceive such a plan is encouraging. I mustn't have guessed what time was it, furthermore I think I shall be able to tell lie about the time in a country where they-Turkish New Caliph RTE and grand vizier Ahmed DAUTY himself-have forbidden that the students in anywhere-at the University, in lyceum or in kindergarten etc. should be taught mathematics or physics-for they are persuaded over Islamic stories that everything is mere story but the Holy Quran. Actually if one has got any problem about the big question linked to the creation of mankind Holy Quran could give enough information about it. And yet one couldn't help asking the simplest questions: what about the tuberculosis, vascular diseases, the dents in need to be filled and the like...Perhaps I shall have time to make the reader to see the ignoble opponents of the new caliph, old Marxist bandits or rather the well experienced political butchers namely the sworn enemies of The PAX Americana. There I am back at my old aphorisms: The opposition parties here are more dangerous than the ruling party of would-be caliph or the most illiterate dictator of the world. This awful reality does matter very hard if The European Civilisation do like to finish RTE without permitting the enemies both of him and of L'OTAN-North Atlantic Treaty Organisation. Indeed that does matter either the famous dictator RTE should be still reigning here or the dissidents of his regime namely the degenerated Marxist or racists should get the upper hand. For then I shall speak of the things that remain in my memory as helpless diseases in need of helpless remedies. Writing or the helpless remedy in this matter is a thing I have always wanted to do. It will be a kind of petition to The higher Human Rights Court. In any case that was a thing I should leave to the very last moment before I was retired, so as to be sure of not having made a mistake neither within the terms of anachronism nor of projection. In any case that must be the thing I shall certainly do, no matter it could useful or not. It will not take me more than some thousand years or only a moment of the giant gravity induced worlds' time in the cosmos. My desire has always be clear and shall be henceforward to be so, without being dubious. I have always prayed deeply and worked hard and because of this reason It is obvious that I may suddenly prosperous, at any moment. Would it not then be better for me to speak of my investments downright? Alas it might be any wiser for in this country there are several clans fed by the same source-Secret Soviet-as radical Muslims, Marxists, anti-Semitic racists, fascists, and even-strange to say-Maoists. I cared of time only from the point of related to correction for at any moment I might be forced to correct inaccuracies that reason counsels and yet reason has not much hold on us every time. I wish if only all sort of events should run together to encourage me when I face Soviet type oppression by the clans I have already mentioned.

    As for present state this country seems to be mine. And yet that of mine overwhelmed the plague of communism but Turkish Soviet is still vivid, jeering the world from over the shoulders of both radical Muslims and fake secular capital dominated, independent lovers and the most dangerous secret Ayatollah of Pennsylvania-F.GULEN. I can find no other explanation to my being left here to suffer deeply, standing still agape. Unless it be at the hands of several Saddam type dictators that will be hardly likely to be a romantic Russian Eastern European and obliged to live here. Why should all the powers have changed in their attitude towards The Civilisation created by Indo-European and Semitic People and ornamented by Afro Americans over jazz? It is better to adopt the reasonable explanation, even if it is not reasonable, even if it does not explain very much the evils of Red KEMALISM and its enemy green KEMALISM having been-both of them-not loyal to the greatest man Ataturk. A bright distance calculator or a GPS gauge is necessary to show how all KEMALISTS are far from KEMAL Pasha if only I should enquire no further in any case this paradox. They are selling Kurdish Children's kidneys in hospitals, or in madhouses...I have listened at different minutes of the moments which are elapsing in a lesser time than one minute and heard many suspicious or unusual cries, and strange to say most of all coming always from the universities that ought to be the most peaceful places in the well civilized countries. In Turkish Universities the higher rank academic staff, are used to-as a moral duty within their amoral hinterlands swearing The USA, lying down, planning ethnic cleansing-if they are racist ones-not coming to department but going to secret business desks, working for money-not for science-and laughing when they were paid over fake scientific projects by their sworn enemies Judeo Christians or good Gulf Arabs. And when I look out of the window it is clear to me, from certain uniform like apparels and hidden guns, that there is a paramilitary army of The Secret Soviet amounting to 100,000 troops, and I am not feeling myself in my house rest in security. No, this is just a plain description of the political reflections I witness in the street. Apparently, in what appears from the windows of a plain ordinary house cannot explain me why and how secret Turkish Soviet annihilated Armenians, Greeks, and Jews in 6-7 September 1955 events in Istanbul. Maybe the Soviet surgeons have castrated some Judeo-Christians in an ambulances sent to the places in great turmoil by Turkish Army, paramilitary troops or Muslim Brothers the brethren of the toppled down Islamic president MORSI of Egypt.All my life long I have dreamt of the moment when, in so far as one can narrate the scandals regarding to the relationship between The USA and The Secret Soviet Republic in Turkey. That moment seems now at hand. I shall plunge into the details while giving a good account based principally on the betrayal of all sort of intellectuals of Turkey. So first of all the stories of leftist, social democrat and even modernist who used to define "the intellect" as the capability of betraying The USA and then, if the term Radical Islamists goes well, their prejudice about all Americans and Europeans: The Heathen. They may plague the representatives of the European Civilization no more, with their abominable betrayal of Radical Islamists and every kind of opponents of those Islamic terrorists. That will be the first report, there is not matter there concerning for both traitors. There will therefore be only two reports: The people living in Turkey love the eastern and western Europeans' civilisation including that of Americans. The second report says that all would-be intellectuals hate and betray the abovementioned civilisation. That is all very clear: In general elections the great majority of the people would vote in the types imitating liberal politicians while all of them having been the rightist or leftist puppets of the Secret Soviet State. Then I shall deal with all of them . If after all that I am still observing those puppets active I shall take the necessary steps to ensure my not having made a mistake. So much for political tricks. I used not to know where this country was going, but I knew it would arrive a civil war, I knew there would be an end to the long blind road in another saying having eaten the bread of the civilisation and sworn the civilisation makers accusing them of being imperialists.

    What politics, my God. It is mating time now and yet I must confess that I find it hard to get used to fantastic ideas as mating without love in peace times unless the old libidinal calls. But the lust is reversed in war times and seems as if it's love to rape an haggard or God forbid dead woman. Our RTE-The Caliph's most intimate friend-as many people could remember-The President MORSI in Egypt has made a law to legalize necrophilia. Turkish Ayatollah namely the chief opponent of Caliph RTE finds that way not well charted and little hope of availing all over the world including his Islamic nest in Pennsylvania. But I have high hopes. What am I doing now gaining the consent of the World's Intellectuals? I try to remind the reader that all chosen psychos like Egypt's toppled down MORSI, all caliphs and their rivals as RTE leading radical Muslims to rape dead girls and F. GULEN abiding in Pennsylvania to give the toxic virtue of asexual life into the veins the innocent lads wriggling in the hermetic rooms of GULEN Mansion of superstition in a modern district of The USA...One could see clearly that it's the phase of briefly presenting my state before embarking the main story even if this would be a mistake, weakness or excess wisdom of mine. Pardon me! It is a weakness apparently but The Genius could indulge in both mistake and weakness. I shall write with all the more ardour afterwards about The Secret Soviet hiding just under the one millimetre of the soil of Anatolia and Trace, and naturally in Constantinople to back-clandestinely some chosen-psychos in Syria, Egypt, and Gaza Strip etc. History is therefore on my side, at least the contemporary events. For I shall have to become earnest again to give the death toll of Palestinians shot dead by their chiefs of terror. Imagine now a number that could be great enough after divided into hundred. What is that death toll since the debut of the third millennium? I don't know. And yet after divided it into one hundred I find at least one hundred, and I suppose the Hamas militants did shoot thousand and thousand Palestinians after reaching even the slightest suspicion that they might have been spying for any foreign country. If I start trying to think again the oppression in and around Anatolia I should remark that the butchers might be proved more innocent than the victims they tortured, killed, fired etc., etc. I must say there is something very attractive about such a prospect inflicting my heart: I am to feel for some opposition groups that hate innocent Americans or Russians much more than their executioners who hate Americans and Russians too. But I am on my guard as Russian romantic pen. For the past few years I have been finding something attractive about everything in the pages of The Literature Network wherein every occasional interlude is to be lucrative than those of Shakespeare namely the tree full of literature fruits thereof I shall not deviate from any further than I might. So much for Shakespeare of whom I feel I cannot make any mistake. O Gosh...

    When I have been pitying the victims I often amused myself with observing the most loved leaders of the victims who were indeed equal in injustice to the oppressors. I tried to invent a new theatre school shoving no innocent people amongst the rival characters but the victims in similar events bound to be lost the events had begun. And succeeding in amusing myself really. Now imagine that you were the president Barrack Hussein O. in the confliction between the ridiculous but dangerous caliph RTE and Ayatollah F. GULEN and backed the Ayatollah keeping him overfed with dollars he had stolen over tax due to his dubious colleges all over the world and being in safety in Pennsylvania. But what is the last thing I remember from that notorious Ayatollah's dirty speeches: " Down with the capitalism, long live Islam!" I could start from the paradox lying there. Wouldn't be Barrack Hussein O. too lost in the war of destruction directed by two rivals each of them having been wilder beasts. I was promenading upon the observations and reports related to them. I have certainly, have been walking through humanist reports in the all ways of life, except the first few years while I have been writing about the love affairs between the humans or genies-or rather between a genie girl and a Russian gentleman here. But at the end of the book I accomplished I did not know where I had been or what my thoughts had been. And yet one could expect that I needed must remember the tortures to eradicate the Kurdish people from the near geography the Secret Soviet in Turkey would like to dominate, to getting rid of, eradicate. Yes eradication and yet by what means? I remember an official murder. The gendarmerie use to kill a Kurdish little girl using not a simple gun but mortar. The little girl has been evaporated leaving only some particles from her little body, and after the official murder the mom of the little Kurdish girl has been forced to pick up those body parts from the dry branches of an elm there1 (See in google: Turkish Second Soviet State is the terror...) Little Kurdish mademoiselle CEYLAN lived unhappy but hopeful in her short life, and her very young days were more varied, such as her parents were afraid of kissing her pink cheeks not to make the red army, green militants of the caliph RTE or dirty green followers of Ayatollah F. GULEN. I None did know her way about so tragic then. Indeed she has lived in a kind of coma as every Kurdish children who should be appreciated the only friends of all Europeans. The loss of consciousness for her after having been chopped by mortar fire was never any great loss because she has tasted having being devoid of owning a certain dead body but blood smeared organ particles. But perhaps she was stunned with the enormous blow of mortar fire targeting at her directly, on the head, in the chest, over the abdomen and what else...? Perhaps she would vaguely remember a forest of elms her memory having multiplied the only elm before the cottage she lived with some hundreds. All that belongs to the past? No before some years. Now must I establish new themes for it is the present. No I must wait in vain the slaughtered little Kurdish girls to avenge...This country isn't an ordinary land. It's the remnant of The Ottoman Empire where of the people we called as "Turk" in The Europe makes the majority of the population. I have made little observations in the provincial parts of its but the districts near to Constantinople seems quite extra ordinary to me. The truth is, if I did not feel myself being salvaged by the European culture, I could well believe myself dead running into the inflamed corridors of the hell But I feel at last that the westernized commanders-like the respectable, great general ABDELFATTAH SISI-are to be running to rescue us out the hell of the radical Islam instigated by fake secular, would-be westernized red or green KEMALISTS in turmoil which would not be the case if I were in the hell wherein no turmoil but a flaring order should reign. Beyond the Islamic hell, the sensation of being beyond it was not stronger with me last month. If I were rejoiced with the good tidings in the month of May-2015 having been foretold to me that in June-2015 I should feel myself hopeful about the future as I do to-day, I should have mocked who would try to rejoice me. The state of my mind find hopeful thought reasonable so the reverse would have been surprising. When the commanders here have completed their mission of westernizing both red Marxist and green Islamist intellectuals in Turkey as General SISI had pulled it off in Egypt, the ordinary people would feel the time is drawing near for embracing civilisation. That's not strange nor funny that all ordinary people would prefer to see the European Civilisation could be lived all over the world, I have not made a joke. There is a phenomenon in and around the mosques very eager to be westernized as Europeans and the Europeans have never looked into the mosque from that point of view. My notebooks not are lying in a corner, saved in an electronic heap within my PC. So with its mouse I can tick away umpteen boxes in number, and through its windows I need not must crane to back to the future.I do not see any complications or aftermaths of coup D'état in Turkey today where I'm sojourning and would like to settle for good because the great majority of all voters here are Pro-Europeans loving civilisation, humanism, and peace. And yet the brain all intellectuals of this country had been washed already by the secret Soviet State in the way of seeming anti European if they would like to be appreciated as real intellectuals namely anti-imperialist and well educated persons. The people are near to ask them, "if The Europe is bad why did they The European's methods to teach anything to you or to train.? Let nobody ask me "Are they near?" because I do know it's so. I do not see either any reason to instigate the non-organized Muslims in the street against or to make the people that they are perpetually using the credits of the well civilized countries first of them having been The European who explored the vaccination chance introduced by the most virulent viruses of the nature, and invented the semi synthetic penicillin! Instead of those bare realities of the life methinks some queer things go on there in the universities sometimes, red communist, green-radical-Islamist or fake secular academics are queer. Perhaps these are abnormal. They could offer love for money to the research assistant ladies very frequently, and if they are rejected they would fire those innocent ladies off shaking their big shaggy head against them in order to teach them a little lesson of morality, huh? I never had so much perplexed as then when I witness such impudent incidents. So let me divulge that sort of misdemeanours without fear of contradiction in the broad daylight. But at night they might be doing worse things than I saw, for I never have a special light to illuminate the dark windows of the offices occupied a lot of debauchee professors. I would like indeed having studied the cases of young ladies put before the door of the universities for not accepting to go to the bed with the academically very big magnates here. But as the one and only scholar MD in Social health I cannot find any way to serve the innocent people in their psycho-somatic problems among those academics of sheer lust. m. Gazing at them one night I suddenly saw myself in the primitive universities of the capital city of the Ottoman Empire. Isn't it possible that there were abusing of boys under 18 for there couldn't be any girl in their-so called-universities? What else? Finding jobs. They are varied but always very hard. And all sorts of jobless young ladies told to leave the university bag and baggage. They come and perch on the pavements near both to the Bosporus and to the palace of new caliph, asking for job! It is not touching for the policemen of Caliph RTE or his rival F.GULEN. They rap with truncheons on their heads and the secret Soviet too never give them anything.

    They are not sewer rats. They attract my attention to the fact that not only I am left without liberal thought, lacking of liberal belief here I always looked after! This is how oppression is done here. All the doors half open: higher education, finding healthy food, watching unrigged football matches on TV or in a stadium, voting for a liberal who is actually a rogue... An unhygienic hand puts a dish on our tables, makes us clothing more or less and left us there under the anti Judeo-Christianity-black-propaganda for that purpose of either rebuilding the Ottoman Empire or reviving the fake secular KEMALIST State-both of the under the control of the secret Soviet State of course! After taking away the dishes they oblige us to listen Turkish pop music not similar to that of Americans but to the fart of the *** of the humans full of the intestinal gases. And what about the serials in the barbaric TV stations on air as the symbol of anti-human ideology: The one would be sentenced to see the faces made of faeces smiling or pouting alternatively. This is done on purpose for us every day, at the same time probably to block our way of thinking freely. When we want to eat we go to the kitchen and when we are tired of thoughtless hours they make us to watch TV to learn how one couldn't prevent pulling the thought off. They have thought of everything. The girls of the country ought to be naked in the name of secularism or to wear Islamic scarves and veils bed, no matter under the blanket or in the street, whose number would increase and diminish as the Islamic and fake secular champions come and go. I are not humanist nor animal lovers because loving humanity couldn't be realized without being the friend of animals. The members of the party in power came bustled about in the way of being a member of The EU, and then turning 180 degree an angle and enquired about our needs to get in Islamic State (Terrorist IS organisation) or in Shanghai Fives but President Putin wanted not to see Turkey in that organisation. The Caliph-RTE did not understand neither Putin making fun of him nor Barrack Hussein showing a baseball stick while talking with our ignorant caliph.Enough of regime and crimes. Of my childhood...All I know is that I was born in this country my grandparents shouldn't have guess that their children would likely I find themselves here. I call myself a migrant, but I cannot prove it for the Polish, the German, The Russian etc. should accept Islam as their new religion for the sake of revival... Perhaps I am only a friend of all religions understanding the ten orders of Judaism. It is ages since I counted them at every time they have been violated, the repeated violations I witnessed I mean. I remember the first school-day of my life the year of my birth from the point of self-inner-conscience and cautiousness directed-from the outside of me-, I have not forgotten that, but I do not know what year I have begin to keep diary like writings. But I think I have been watching and writing for some very considerable time. For there are a lot of self directed reports watched and kept under the protection of my own manuscripts namely various events based on oppression having given a sort of melancholy to me, within the long boundaries or semi iron walls made by secret Soviet in Turkey, that I have moulded in unbiased documents to remember as bitter pages of the people I share the same soils now. Documentation is not to be learnt in a short time but after having learnt whole experiences could flow before one's eyes in a flicker of one's lids that might make everything to be told in a moment as fluently flown as Aladdin's one thousand and one night tales, Okay? Come on then: A few words about myself perhaps maybe seem dreary. And yet I dare say the story of the people in this land is what must be called as postponed Gulag Archipelagos' shadow on the barren steppes of Anatolia. There is really nothing to do now to compensate the results of the dramatic event of young ladies once have started to devote their lives to scientific researches but have been fired for not having devoted their sexual situation to the whim of lust induced apatite of their professors. After so many a seasons maybe I would not have been able to introduce the reader the photos of those lady victims for they have already tasted ageing and been taught that 'old age is no blessing' as Dostoyevsky wrote down within the pages of his book-'the notes from the underground' more affectively anymore. But I would not much given to nostalgia hidden in my Russian veins, the muscles of my arms that they are still in position, and can exert a great force.It's very easy to dominate them: nostalgic matters-written or learnt by heart, and the muscles. Touching the letters and signs of the clavier is sufficient to exert my power in that case that is part of my life, and I would not like it to cease it while The Literature Network is seeming so much vivid, I mean the vividly approaches would not seem to be decreased anyhow. The mission of narrating every Soviet type torture is on my shoulders, that is to say keeping my eyes open will suffice for my work under the sky of tortured mankind. The main events I have seen and heard linked to the Secret Soviet oppression and torture here are very drastic. From the point of senses those of mine are full trained and put under my power. Beastly roaring or being silent as a snake or the statements stale and ignoble are being injected into the great majority of the Muslim people who love European civilization. What's the need of some injection here? It's must be needed for The Secret Soviet would like to make the people mentioned above a prey for the red Marxist or green Islamist terrorists. The Secret Soviet wish if only the pro-European people shall not speak of their sufferings so that cowering deep down within inflictions the people will feel nothing. It is there the Pro-European Muslims dying in silence for they have got no mass media organs as the Turkish Ayatollah F. GULEN viz. the most secret Islamic terror chief abiding in Pennsylvania . While a lot of things would be seen, be heard when they would cry the Pro-European Muslims should remain in an aching silence. Here in this turmoil my thought struggles on, it too make me having been read, as it always ought to be. The Secret Soviet knows where I am to be found but the age we live wouldn't leave them to use my place as any kind of means in giving me any harm. In the age of internet they cannot give any harm to anyone who cannot be quiet. Such would seem to be my present advantage in writing the aches of the family. The man's name is "Turk" instead of the truth that he was a Kurd. And yet he cannot have a Kurdish name as his father did. Kurdish names? But a lot of them are Indo-European names, huh? I do know his name: Khali. He will not need another name. His friends call him Khali. Everybody know what friends they are but I don't know. A few words about the man cannot be avoided. The Constitution of Turkey prohibits calling a child's name in any language Turkish. So Khali ought to leave his name in the childhood!

    He was perpetually a tedious man. He was not good at his lessons in Turkish School for not the new caliph RTE nor his bloody rival the notorious Muslim cleric F.GULEN would have smashed the brains of the teacher to make them not to see the use of them. Khali attended his classes with his mind occupied with the fear of gendarmerie, or blank. Gendarmerie had must been ordered to give a good trash to every Kurdish student regularly so all of them would attend the class with their mind elsewhere. Khali and his citizen friends liked sums for they had nothing to count, and liked geography of great Kurdistan but not the way they were taught. Why? Because the teachers had already been taught that there was no land belonged to Kurds on the maps. Adding to them everything that he liked was the manipulation of concrete numbers. All abstract calculations seemed to Khali idle in which the nature of the numbers forced to be imagined or briefly of numbers based on 'the irrational' were not specified. What a tort it was. He was the second child of an industrious and healthy parents. He often heard them talk of what they ought to do in order to give a better tidiness to the ranch and earning more money besides having good animals to sell to the content of their hearts. He was getting happier and happier each time by the richness of these progressive plans and not surprised that they led the family to victory. His father was an expert in solving the problems of the ranch. He used to say to his wife, "I really must find better procedures for taking care of the animals came Holland, may God be pleased with Europeans, and have accommodated quickly to the harsh conditions of the mount climate here." He added, strongly, " our old milking technique was awaiting before us to be improved." His wife would answer, "And if we do any more work Khali will be more successful in his higher education in the future." And Mr. Halo-their family name was so- had to allow that he would indeed be well advised to forego his rest after Friday praying. "Our children at least are grown up" he would remark. And their health was not so poor that he could not help their father in Saturdays and Sundays "What a creative idea," said his wife, "working beside you the I mean the children? Essentially it won't be a secretarial work of some kind but any sort of getting exercised for obligatory military service..." He would say, "They will look after the garden, huh?" The life of the Halo Family's was full of designs, of which one at least established the humanitarian reality of a garden with roses and with its paths and lawns ultra cared for."Think of the price of price of living as a Turk but having been born as a Kurd so we ought to put aside a good amount of American Dollar facing the probability to our son-Khali to The USA for higher education", would say his mother. And in the silence which followed Mr. Halo applied his mind, with the earnestness the money he has earned, to the high price of postgraduate education in Texas High Tech which shall likely has prevented him from supporting his family in greater comfort. And yet his family were seeming ready not to accuse him in their turn and to do all they might. But he was easily persuaded by himself that he could not do more without exposing his family to the risk of poverty after. Think of the touristic expenditure we save to visit Constantinople, said Mr. Halo. And the Abraham T. SES concert's bills, said his wife. Nothing remained but to envisage a greater villa or rather a greater kiosk. "Thanks to the God we aren't cramped as it is," said Mrs. Halo. And it was an understood thing that they would be more and more busy with every coming year until the day the children got married one after another. Could a kind of equilibrium be attained in parent's living and making the children to live? Of course yes! After setting that sort of equilibrium the house would be being emptied little by little. And at last they would be all alone, with their memories reminding them their neighbours' children killed by The Secret Soviet in the mountains embraced by the Northern Kurdistan moors. It wouldn't be time enough then for the victims to move. They could be off to the KOBANI or ROJOVA, they at their last gasp. They would take a cottage in the strip partitioning the Antioch and Syrian Kurdistan lands. And yet having no further need of moving for good they all died, they could afford to buy a new life but their villages had been set to fire already. If they had survived their children, grateful for the sacrifices made on their behalf by their parents would come to their assistance.All was being talked in the atmosphere of well controlled imagination that these conference like talks usually ended. It was as though The Halo Family drew their impotence in curbing astronomic treasures as Bill Gate to reach being richer. But sometimes, before reaching that stage, they paused to remember the birthdays of their children considering that in the near past the gendarmerie could make chops of the Kurdish babies with blind bayonets as one of the children of their most intimate neighbours had been killed officially. "What age would he or she-they are not able to remember the gender of that baby martyr-now?" asked Mr. Halo. His wife provided the information, it being understood that this was an official execution. Maybe the slain baby was wrong doer. Mr. Halo took over the erroneous figure of the killers-the members of JITEM/see in GOOGLE please-, murmuring it over and over to himself as though it were a question of jurisdiction instead of the State Terror of The Secret Soviet in Turkey. And at the same time he sought in the appearance of his son some alleviation of what he had just heard. Was not the slain baby a nice meat bag of the state? Khali would look at the sweating face of his dad disappointedly, and yet trusting to him in spite of all. Was it over the cruel oppression of the secret Soviet or by the time of Gulf War the secret state was forced to command a Kurdish baby murder? Khali at times stated wearily his regret that his father should not be more eager not to be unjust-or rather frightened to death and forgot the word of justice-then before the members of his family providing him with the most secure place for him in the way of divulging the righteousness as The Jesus Christ had done while he had been dragged to the cross and ascending-according to the holy Quran-to the heavens. Khali's mom-as every mom-said that It would be better for him to make his homework. And his dad approved his wife as if starting from a given theme their minds laboured in as unison as a chant from The ottoman palaces. Ottomans had got in Constantinople palaces no prolific compositions properly sung in various tonalities but yawning the same, worn out, sheer unison melody . They had been used to perform the musical notes in much the same way as the workers would make use of signs, or of their portable lamps.

    "The most important thing that would be, at that baby's age", said his wife, "is not to die or to be killed". They did not know how they were committed to a situation to understand her verdict reasonably. Yes it was something that went without saying and yet the mom of Khali must have learnt that a baby could only be killed and it could not kill or escape from being killed anyhow. It was therefore impossible she should be unfitted for any verdict like that. She apparently thought of a baby as a professional defence body for preference. Mrs Halo insisted, "We neighbours will rather not look after all babies of the province when we try to survive. And her husband replied, "I see all babies rather as paramilitary troops not only to defend themselves but all of us as well." What silliness... And yet the Kurds call that sort of silly talks playing with the laws of The Secret Soviet for they won't wonder if they do know that their talking either about themselves or about the other people is to be listened to by means of bugs. Shall they be capable, to the end, of carrying on with defence against being the eardrop subject of the secret state? They feel the dark clouds of ethnic cleansing gathering, and the solitude preparing to defend themselves, by which The Halo Family know itself might not be nice but mere ignorant. Already they don't forget what they have said even it was silly. That is how to play. The children of the family shall not know where Mr. Halo comes from, nor what he hopes in reasonable ways. Perhaps he had better abandon his life for the sake of his citizens if was not for the feeling of parentage so he must simply be on his guard, reflecting on what he or his wife have said before the family could go on or coming to an halt each time The Turkish Soviet threatens, to look at themselves as they are. That is not just what they wanted to sustain and yet there seems to be no other solution. As for deciding what a way to be reasonable they should open their eyes, look at the heap of their dollars gained over the sweat of a family keeping care of a ranch under the arbitrary mortar attacks here or there, to give them the orders they know they must obey...At times they have tried to reflect on the beginning of their pacifist struggle with The Secret Soviet in Turkey. There are things too they do understand best. But nothing to signify. they can go on holding out the dirty remnant of The Ottoman Empire, The Secret Soviet State. Mr. Halo had many friends as in the proverb friends are plenty when the purse is full. He was on good terms both with his poor or rich friends, actually they love him. Furthermore when he state terror hits the Northern Kurdistan there will be seldom solitary. He run and love his horses well, was to be shown favoured in horse racing , and yet he never sneered at the losers and sometimes even applaud them with pertinent eulogies. Loving horses and dogs...They would ask him too many question about the animals his deep affinity of having many pets and their kittens, and pestered with such questions frequently he would cry, "Haven't I told you I don't know why I love animals! Much of his free time he spent confined in ranch works he play cards in a little coffee tavern often he did not get home just at the dinner time at night. He submitted with philosophy to these hobbies. But he would not let himself be a sheer addict or fanatic. Once upon a time an exasperated Turkish red Marxist general-or was he a dirty green Islamist or racist on-colonel threatened him with a cane, Mr. Halo snatched it from his hand broke it!The Halo Family must try and discover, when they have time to think about liberty, liberal thought and liberal belief. It must also be asked quietly, why The Halo Family was not exiled or expatriated or even slaughtered by The Secret Soviet when they so richly deserved to be because of their huge money and big estates. For they might want as little as possible of darkness in their quality of being too much wit and industrious Kurds availing over their family history. Being industrious and rich in a land occupied by lazy and perfidious gunmen wouldn't like this little darkness covering the merit by which they were working hard and became rich. The army of The Secret Soviet must not have thought no more about it and they could go on. But they know what darkness that would disturb red-Marxist-KEMALISTS is, it accumulates upon militarist and nationalist mentality, thickens, then suddenly bursts and begins to slaughter Kurds. drowns everything. they have not been able to find out why they were not exiled as successful Kurds. They shall have to leave this question open. They will try to be glad not to analyze the bizarre changing in the bloody habit of The Secret Soviet State in Turkey. They shall make haste to put a safe remove between the Marxist KEMALISTS type incomprehensible indulgence, they shall make it live bloodily as though it had been punished according to its deserts after the collapse of The Soviet Empire-USSR. They shall turn their backs on this little cloud, but they shall not let it out of their speculations. Besides some curious deductions might give harm to their happiness. One of their happy days the Green Islamist Soviet led by F. GULEN abiding in Pennsylvania will astonish the world to put the red KEMALISTS generals of the secret Soviet State behind the bars without trying them and make them at least confess their bloody crimes they had been committed against all Kurds-innocent or guilty. It was thanks to Mr. Halo's brain power that enabled the family observing queer events with all the prudence they have got not let everything to hazard those surprises and, in defiance of the facts and against his better judgment on behalf of the Kurds. But they could not endure the look in their own eyes reflecting from the antic mirror in the saloon of their luxury house... This is awful too.The Halo Family loved their cat-Brownie, the dog-Admiral, ad their sheep and oxen, not say nothing of their interest in wild animals and in and around of their garden all plants from thistle to rose and raised eyes to the sky day and night, to see the bodies there. And they did know how to look at all these things, the looks they poured upon them taught them a lot of the absurd richness of the cosmos regarding to the species about them. Instead of the tasteless cocktail of ingredients-no matter either living or non-living-of the life couldn't make them to confused the trees with one another, and the trees, and could not tell one crop from another crop. He did not associate the jonquils with the balsam nor the charcoal with black stones. They were sometimes tempted by the knowledge of the strange things in the world, say the wars, sometimes beautiful, that they would have about those all his life. And even from their ignorance of the genuine Albeniz Guitar pieces they drew a kind of joy while jokingly accusing each other, "You are a simpleton!" But the loved most the flight of American drones and could distinguish it from all others in protecting their lives in the hell of The Secret Soviet State. A light has just gone on in all windows facing the east, south, west and even the north in summer times from all sides of their house across the vast moors, and briars.At every years old Khali would be the same, the household should accept so. Eventually every Kurdish bodies from babyhood till old age could earn their living, said Mr. Halo's wife. So I was, said Mr. Halo. But in the view of his Turkish teachers loyal to Turkish Ayatollah F. GULEN the signs-concerning Kurdish Youth were rather those of diabolic impure and not worthy to be being dealt by. All Kurdish friends of Khali used to be bemused in class dropping their jaw and breathed hoarsely through nowhere but the mouth. One ought to be an eyewitness that the Kurdish Youth having been slaughtered instantly by Islamic terrorists-IS Militants backed by the Caliph of Turkey namely TAYYIP ERDOGAN It is not easy to see in this debacle whereof main expression is compatible with weird thoughts. As for their ideologies actually one might qualify them only drams and their dream was less of humans than of the astray dogs and cats in the street for they would survive through something similar their own lives. But it would be more than enough to stop up the nose neither of theirs nor The Kurdish Youth for both of their jaws to sag for ever as a sign of forlorn. But it should be the time the world should be more active took for safety of Kurdish Victims in KOBANI. The Halo Family don't like those tearful eyes of their children weeping for the babies burnt by Islamic terrorists backed by Turkey's new caliph RTE. Arch! The babies burnt in KOBANI just now and then. They remind The Halo Family of an old Kurdish Province DERSIM that had been set to fire after an awful chemical war thereof all victorious commanders whom should be even applauded actually as Turkish Nationalist Reds or racist communists...The Halo didn't seem tending to forget which they know wasn't a small thing. From the other side they were easily frightened then. They know those little phrases that seemed not so much unacceptable to let considerations broken, and to pollute the routine speeches out of standard tongue. Having been rich is not more real than being shot by the paramilitary troops of F. GULEN viz. Turkish Ayatollah or to be slaughtered by the Army of the Turkey' new caliph R.TAYYIP ERDOGAN. They all adept in sweeping their crimes under the carpet and going on with the best camouflage to hide the blood they shed from the eyes of the world, and could rise up out of the pit and know no rest until they drag the corpses of the Kurds eradicated in the most actual of the newest ethnic cleansing down into dark depths of the history. But The Halo Family were on their guard now for the time being. They understood that they had not learnt the art of thinking under the blood raining fulfilled by Turkish Nationalist Islamic Terrorists since The World War I.

    A PC MOMENT OF SOLZHENITSOF
    (New Romantic Russian Novel)
    PART I
    CHAPTER II

    From those fears, angers and disillusions The Halo Family's soul emerged fortified and vivid, which confirmed the father Halo's impression that they would not let themselves to be the victim of lascivious speculations. They ought to earn more money, they would say. They were getting on, getting on. They told each other that they would be a good marathon runners, and "Let forget everything but work" said Mr. Halo, "and now we're on our team." Their industries attacks in investments on the cattle take up all their time, "But" said Mrs. Halo, "Turkish Islamic and nationalist terrorists and the so called secular and well camouflaged fraudulent Turkish intellectual mafia of The Turkish secret Soviet State could put hand our moneys and throttle us over IS-Islamic State-or Marxist GEZI PARK anarchists. And "he is always last to give up the work", said Mr. Halo. "He would be fond of working," said Mrs. halo, the long exerts in the moors would do him good." Then Mr. Halo smiled , at the thought of his family's great endowment and the good things they did until now. And sometimes he was carried away to the point of saying, "It might have been better to have put himself to a trade whereupon it would be usual, though not dreary! They were getting on. Nothing is less like they than the beheaded Christians-murdered by IS backed by Turkey's caliph and his rivals FETHULLAH GULEN and his pineapple friend AYDIN DOGAN, reasonable cooperation useful in struggling all for nearly one hundred years to shed the Judeo-Christian's blood, avid of the least benevolence, The Soviet next to the USSR since 1920s to the goal of darkness. Here truly was the air all The Kurds would have needed, a lively authentic air, far from the injected murk that letting Turkish Islamic Fascists and their secret culprits-Red KEMALISTS to make ethnic cleansing in The Balkans, Syria, Iraq, and even in Caucasia. And yet they shall never go back into the semi alive carcass except to find out its reborn time. They would rather want to be there where they were a little before plunging a possible civil war, close for the last time the old hatch on top of them, say goodbye to the scene where they had lived. The Halo Family was always rationally hopeful and romantically sentimental. But between now and then they have time to frolic around the dinner table, bravura induced, in the brave company of theirs they have been used to always, always searched for, and which they would ever have been longing for. Yes, now their mind was easy, they, as an aside, would know the game was to be won that they have lost till now, but it should go without saying that it's the last that counts. A very fine achievement they must have hoped, or rather would, if they did not fear to contradict to every reality. Fear to contradict every reality! If this might continue it could be themselves who should lose the zest of holding out against the enemy of The Jesus Christ-MESIH viz. The saviour. They would abstain from resembling to the wretches famed in fable, crushed beneath the weight of their victory they won the war. And they even would feel a strange desire came over them, the desire to know what they would be doing, and why. Unjust things? God forbid...So they should have been near the goal they had set themselves. And on the threshold of being the last winner. Very pretty indeed in the summer holidays...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 07-01-2015 at 06:51 AM.

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    (THE AUTHOR CAME BACK FROM KOBANI CONTINUING TO WRITE)
    At every years old Khali would be the same, the household should accept so. Eventually every Kurdish bodies from babyhood till old age could earn their living, said Mr. Halo's wife. "So I was," said Mr. Halo. But in the view of his Turkish teachers loyal to Turkish Ayatollah F. GULEN the signs-concerning Kurdish Youth were rather those of diabolic impure and not worthy to be being dealt by. All Kurdish friends of Khali used to be bemused in class dropping their jaw and breathed hoarsely through nowhere but the mouth. One ought to be an eyewitness that the Kurdish Youth having been slaughtered instantly by Islamic terrorists-IS Militants backed by the Caliph of Turkey namely TAYYIP ERDOGAN It is not easy to see in this debacle whereof main expression is compatible with weird thoughts.....(See both above and below please!)
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 07-01-2015 at 05:35 PM.

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    A PC MOMENT OF SOLZHENITSOF
    (New Romantic Russian Novel)
    PART I
    CHAPTER II

    For the sake of ventilation "You'll have us in a palace like the AK-SARAY ", said Mrs. Halo. "And yet It's not been a good investment for the new caliph," said Mr. Halo, "In the last general elections the Pro-NATO Turkish and Kurdish Muslims gave a good lesson to both Ayatollah GULEN and The New Caliph-R. T. ERDOGAN." In the moment he would left the house, with the letters from KOBANI-ROJAVA his leader bag , on the prejudice that he could read them in more safety out of the house, no, without a word reminding the members of the Halo Family that if Turkish gendarmerie might capture the letters from Syrian Kurds let it should be fulfilled in the open air thereby one could invent a lie that one stumbled upon them, their bundle, on the pavement. Once clear of the back yard of the home he could hide them under a stone after having read them god knows how manyth times he read through them. It should have been the season when the shepherds of his cattle might find the long bright days are too long and enough for all there is to do. And often they took advantage of the son to have a sun bath all over the legs but under knees. The impending afternoon would also be long enough to renew ablution and to pray in the parish, say, in a sanctuary instead of the home where he could fall asleep-out of melancholy not happiness-at any time. Yet he would want to think of the helpful soldiers of coalition forces who had rescued the Kurds from the hard oppression of Saddam Hussein who had hating Kurdish babies been used to kill them with chemicals when they were in sleep at, say, the time of dawning. If the truth be told there were no time for sleep for Kurdish babies for the secret Soviet State in Turkey did not want them be sleeping.Saddam, The New Caliph of Turkey RTE and Turkish Ayatollah F. GULEN must have evaluated the biological catastrophic phenomenon-coma as something necessary for Kurds if they should be living. The living Kurds. They were always more than the dictators in Turkey, Syria, and Iraq could bear. They would rather be watched in coma and would go to the heaven without inflicting the dictators with tedium. Then they could kill their little children with mortars tearing their breasts, shot the muscle fibres of their hearts and the steel parts of the bombs should take their place. Mr. Halo would feel within his heart the glow of shrapnel's steel with all its frenzy, but thanks to Israelites and Americans he know it would set them on fire no more. The Gulf War stopped everything and Kurds should wait the happy end. Old despots of Turkey ought to stand on one leg after the last general elections, motionless, their bloody eyes closed. The turmoil around the border between Syria and Turkey seemingly has made the days swimming over frozen water in a burning weather linked to such dreary postures. The little girls would soon be running in the rose gardens like clouds drifting the blazing feature of the sun till they would make the earth shadowy and convenient for babies' sleep as long as they would please. Kurds are in love with the European stock because their young ladies are all Blondie and sweetie. They are from or beloved Russians to The World's body guards-American troops are using the arms that have provided with them by the Indo-European type scholars, including both Hubble, Newton and Omar Khayyam who lived and invented. The Halo Family also have begun to try and learn genuine civilisation and secularism thereof have been exhibited-and yet based on sheer hypocrisy- over the international platforms by Marxist, liberal or Islamist Turkish would be scientists all of them having been fake, quasi and the like-usurping the sheer ideologies as superficial lies . For having been tortured by Turkish Gendarmerie perpetually The Halo Family too must have tried and invent. The Pro-NATO Turkish and Kurdish Muslims had manifested already that from the point of all Turkish political parties civilisation is not the truth but a mere apparatus to beguile The EU.Yes! No matter. The Halo Family have tried. While within them the angel of earnestness padded up and down, caressing the brains, singing in hearts. The Kurdish Family members have done that. And all alone, say, having got no contribution from the side of visible Turkish State under the command of the secret Soviet State that should be able to be well hidden, to play the clown. Yes they have pulled it off all alone, time after time, often motionless, and at times standing still waiting. That's right, waiting without groan. they could make progress. They turned around themselves till they were dizzy, and they clapped hands, ran making circles in the house of luxury having got a miniature private gymnasium, shouted, saw themselves in the mirrors, enjoyed self winning, saw themselves not losing hope, rejoicing, winging by their own enthusiasm. Then suddenly Mr. Halo threw his beloved son Khali on the claviers of their German made piano requesting him to play the pieces which he was taught by Madame G.-a Norwegian lady came to hold against Turkish Gendarmerie-the butcher of Kurdish Babies-if there're any from his childhood to change his father joy to howling. The other people would have pursued him, caught him, kissed his cheeks, hounded by him back into the round. For Mr. Halo was already in the toils of earnestness this play has been the disease of the family. Perhaps they could have lived after all, without feeling any sorry, and time to time they wondered why they wouldn't speak of all inflictions which used to surround them. Of course, to relieve the sufferings had got its simple formula: Be helped to live and help others to live, and tried not to use problematic conceptions in the world of words. After the scandalous murder attacks of the secret Soviet in Turkey they would live if the official bloody attempts might leave some corpses behind them or not, they began again, to help themselves for the sake of living, causing others to live. How natural all this was. They had no time to explain the spontaneous causes of trying to live. They could begin again and again instead of seeing that they would live little by little with a different aim, no longer in order to survival, but in order to be more and more successful. Their life was full of inner and natural nuances that they had not sought. When they struggled out of their mansion they were to suffer from a kind of vertigo, not letting them to go back home, then they wouldn't fail to fall into the work for the sake of earnestness...

    Backing to home, for looking at new projects for progress in business they should be waiting for them always, who needed all Kurdish Families and which they needed that took them outright in his arms warmly and told them to stay with progressive money making drafts always which gave them their place and make them not too much alert about the fake secular, racist and Marxist commander either under the command of Turkey's biggest boss-KOC Family or native- native but abiding in Pennsylvania-Ayatollah F. GULEN or even new Caliph ERDOGAN that watched Kurds like The Elder Brother. According to Mr Halo who suffered every time from the endless evil of The Secret Soviet State that held the bridles of abovementioned anti Judeo Christianity bosses in hand, and left him facing whom have offer suffer and seldom contented with oppressive gendarmerie whom he has never seen before. There one might be forgetting oneself again. In occupied Kurdistan-occupied by Turks, Syrians, and Persians suffering shouldn't concern Mr. Halo only is every Kurds, far beneath them and who envy Kurds resistance against mischief of terrorist states keeping under occupation. Of Mr. Halo himself one could never tell, any more than trying to live. How could he have pulled it off when never trying to name his adventure? To show himself then, on the point of vanishing, at the same time as the stranger in his motherland? Then live, long enough to try, behind his eyes-closed-or before them open to the end of the frenzy while especially the eyes closed. What an end? Work and sleep of course. The cattle. The Halo Family had a taste of experience of the inadequacy from the view of change between rural and urban areas had not escaped the excellent happiness under the roof of their happiness. They had mastered, on this subject, making money and playing with considerations yet drawing closer to the truth, only truth: ling in a soil occupied. The shepherds. Mr. Halo would visit them very frequently. And yet he can't ask anything concerning their social problems for they should fear that the gendarmerie could have followed him to listen secretly for what would he might be worrying. After his visiting they-assembled through the moors- would be watching him depart, in a hurry, as though the time scarcely was enough to go back. He never stopped- maybe stood tottering a moment-then suddenly was off again towards the home. While he was finicky when he'd go back to home his mental faculties should work singly or limping, drifting, as though tossed by the waves in a torrent. It was like a big, dried leaf plucked by the wind from the place where it had fallen. There could be no choice of imagining he and other Kurds could be in safety within the borders of the Northern Kurdistan occupied by the gang state-The secret Soviet of Turkey. The Halo Family would have infringed their little rules in talking hot political matters, disapproving some of them or drawing near to the well known evil subjects dangerously concerning state terror swinging over Kurds like a blood dripping sword . The family was not far wrong in thinking that they knew the details of some murders, and could speak of them at any moment, without fear for everybody knew them too. But Mr Halo, as an well experienced Kurdish citizen ought to make sure that their innocent agenda on daily state terror might attract stately rancour that could be turn into a great peril to threat the routine happiness of his family. From the other side the garrulous style of his hard talks should be conceived as well as a cheap victory because of the trembling position of the new caliph-RTE. For the time being The Halo Family would learn that the image of being-or rather seeming-open minded was carrying the chance to change the torture by secret Soviet in Turkey over which Mr. and Mrs Halo and their children have lulled themselves till that time was not in need of completely changing.

    And they should be sorry if they let slip any unique occasion which seemed to denounce The Halo Family to the gendarmerie the possibility of something suspiciously like a true statement against Turkey's Secret Soviet State that clandestinely-like a mafia gang-all sort of people from politicians to artists, artisans, scientists and from atheists and gays to the Muslim clerics, pilgrims , mullahs, whores, respectable commanders and simple bandits and the like. Mr. Halo might feel he had failed in his duty to denounce the secret Soviet of Turkey! He wanted this matter to be free from all trace of turbidity and be clear. I want, when the great day comes, to be in a position to enounce clearly, without exaggeration or underestimation All dangerously chattering of the Halo Family as interminable prelude had brought them to energetic human behaviours and left the family members to be rich and intellectually strong in the way of personal progress. One couldn't presume it was an obsession. They see then they had attributed to themselves certain vital importance objects as freedom had been no longer in Pro-NATO Turkish and Kurdish people of Turkey's possession, as far as all Kurds could see in the last general elections. But might they not tear and grasp their right of life pulling behind the brutal Constitution of that secret Soviet state? That would not surprise the world because the inter family chat sessions around the dinner table should be stronger than the murky associated boots of gendarmerie... And yet Kurds in Anatolia should talk on the boots of gendarmerie. And The Pro-NATO Turkish and Kurdish people should show the hypocrisy of the well hidden Soviet of Turkey behind its fake democratic masks. What masks? Those used by leftist, rightist, atheist, fundamental Islamist, modernist magnates In Turkey, and to the best of the Halo family's knowledge, there was no officially yet frankly liberal body amongst them; only some piece of public poll not capable of intervening between the secret Soviet and innocent people possessions regarding to freedom. Mr. Halo referred to the old fraud of fallen Ottoman Empire in this vaudeville.A propos Khali had noted on the other hand, in a huge heap diary scribbles, the occurrence of the most shameful incident of the Mankind's Music History that have quite forgotten which at least something to threaten the "Listening Freedom" of all humans apt to strike every chords in the humanity's memory. His family did remember in horror, panic, nausea, and shame swearing the Turkish Secret Soviet State: "Shame...shame you old hyena-the killers of Greeks, Jews, Armenians, and Kurds at last! They remembered that once The Halo Family had listen to Abraham T.SES's divertissements on the Schubert's themes. Turkish Secret soviet State has heard about it or rather has been informed about it. The secret Soviet used to shoot the musicians making melodies not similar to the braying approved by the state, and they shot Abraham T. SES who has been treated the in the USA for he was suffering quadriplegia after having shot in Istanbul. Never mind, that divertissement would be theirs no matter wherever it came from. That sample of my musical murders were derived from the same source : Under the wild, rapacious control of Turkish Soviet one could Kurdish music people could play Shubert on piano, or sing a Kurdish folk song, and yet to reconcile the most powerful points within the notes classical western music notes with Kurdish type songs' tunes had been prohibited since the death of Ataturk after whom the Secret Soviet discovered the westernisation of Kurdish culture might be dangerous from the point of the state! That awful attack-shooting the Kurdish singer Ibrahim (Abraham) T.SES at head reminded Khali me of something, and "of what?" might be summarised there: The racist and anti-Judeo Semitic killers had lynched another Kurdish singer namely A. KAYA wherein the killers had been backed by a magnate businessman viz. A. DOGAN say nothing of the trick that Mr. DOGAN used to be bragging that he should be treated respectfully as the greatest friend of Germany. Phew! What a swindler Secret Soviet State could be not beguiling only the uneducated Anatolian people but The Europeans as well. And over such dangerous remembrances would make The Halo Family to understand the peril's darkness and sophistication, so better they should think of it instead of letting it than it should have touched them directly. They resolved, they shouldn't know "how", and force the evil, gang type state undo it. They would rather send all evil probabilities into the hell over internet friendship with European stock people to be resting in peace and over working at the clavier to denounce the secret Soviet State's murders targeting at the Kurdish singers on purpose. They should speak of it again and again perhaps, when the time came. They should say, the European culture could hear them if they work hard while doing job and at the study table where their upgraded PC has been placed already.

    Mr. Halo told himself too that he must have made better speed for true lives do not tolerate slowness-or rather slouch approach-in the case of radically bad circumstance. It is there the demon-The secret Soviet State lurks, like the most cute warm infestation in the folds of the bowels of The Europe and The North America. The time to spend in the way of richness was not limited from the point of the Halos' agenda... It is thence that one fine day to share all living creatures of The Mideast viz. the spring of "Greater Middle East", when all nature should smile and shine, the old oppression would let loose the minds to think and to pray for ever. The Halo Family's situation was truly delicate. Fine things, good tidings would be waiting them in the future, and they were not going to miss any tweeting fortune through fear, fear of falling back into the old Soviet type-semi military-oppression, fear of not being rich and happy in time! They would not be fearing indeed of being tortured again-or rather forever-for a new century, in a last misery of being rundown by any infection caused by The Turkish Soviet, poor apatite and baseless hatred. The form of having been tortured had been many in which the Kurds would seek relief from their poverty. Ah yes, either virtuous singers or good listeners of The Northern Kurdistan were always subject of relentless ordeal especially in the spring promising times in Anatolia. Turkey's Secret Soviet State had been organizing abominable attacks at Kurds in the Northern Kurdistan namely South-eastern Anatolia. for the past two centuries. If any Kurd could venture to survive the gendarmerie and special army troops would force them to eat newly defecated excreta. There would be no more chance for the captives, prisoners, detainees if they were Kurdish people from every age: the babies born before a few time, octogenarians, the youth and adults. After all it is not important not to finish all Kurds, there are worse things than them: The Huns' new generations the gang state would be obliged to carry from The Central Asia to settle over the vast lands of Kurds. But would that the point of eternal solution? Quite not likely because in Turkey there were zombies like AYDIN DOGAN-Germany's very intimate friend who would be insisting to use the sub-logo in his Newspaper-HURRIYET that "Turkey belongs to only Turks!" . All one should ask that who would be the last in the ethnic cleansing, as long as it lasts? Could the citizens of Georgian, Albanian, Bosnian stocks shall have living for instructing a new life after all Kurds were eradicated, that is all, one should know. All one should ask is to know, before The Humanity would abandon in the way of survival. Whereas their lives had so well begun: enjoying, clapping every breath of theirs in Anatolia as a great success in wilderness, then suffering, rotting and being done away with. Only thing in their future should be what one might call taking a refuge in your Bulgaria or Greece after all... According to Mr. Halo the secret Soviet did not thitherto make up its mind to finish ethnic cleansing. But he fancied it would weigh heavier in the Northern Kurdistan-South-eastern Anatolia. " Kurds' spirit, when it came back, could fill even Constantinople with its din, though the secret Soviet's steel nuke could move no more than a creeping baby's watery body, and Kurdish youngsters ought to open their eyes and gaze unblinkingly and long at the future after the spring time in the Mideast. So the most voracious attempt to eradicate them-that would humanity gaped-, might hit first at the old mischief of the secret Soviet State, then at the novelties having been invented by the Islam induced terrorists or the culprits of Islamic State-IS. So there should be a reasonable collaboration between the Pro-NAYO Turkish and Kurdish people making the greatest majority in Anatolia and the minorities viz. liberals, Jews, Christians and the like that having not been misted and smeared in the first century of Turkish Republic. If Kurds should like to breathe on the neck of the secret State-Turkey's Soviet it would be destroyed, toppled down, decayed, petrified and even putrefied. But it would be carrying too fidget induced hurry. It was such a period when The Judeo-Christians loved Kurds and they backed coalition forces brightly. And yet the secret Soviet state under the command of-probably big businessmen and the eternal chiefs of paramilitary yet official forces used to install the grenades under the cradle of Kurdish infants. In approximately 80-90 cases the parts of the some days old babies' bodies were to be picked up by their mothers and the pets like dogs helped them to collect the blood stained organs or organelles to be put in coffin as a whole. If there were more Soviet type mischief album to divulge that would come back to give endless inflictions to humanity, those who were to be taken as responsible couldn't be Kurds but gendarmeries. Those clouds of ordeal could be swept easily by Sovietised orders from the labyrinths of Ankara, having been uttered by the wind of official wilderness all over the old lands of The Ottoman Empire. If Kurds hadn't the patience to wait Turkish Soviet would see the richly mustered truth: Civil War between the fake and genuine-a little in quantity actually-circles Islamic Law demanding mobs, between Kurds and Turkish racists and between the Anatolian patriots and Thracian potato belief groups. But they had. Now that they have to look more attentively at the fake secular soldiers and the guards of the caliph-RTE who apparently helped IS-Islamic State of Iraq and Syria. Awhile the Kurdish villagers would hear the whining and flickering sound of death of their mules for because of the sheer outrage Soviet's gendarmerie were killing innocent animals of theirs. Frequently they close their eyes and the moaning of the mules that have been being shot from Secret Soviet helicopters mingles with their breath. Though they have closed their eyes blood stained images was running in their heads, trying to escape from gendarmerie, wishing to be able to be flying as crows, colliding with each other, crashing, and repeating the same themes in imagination endlessly. But beyond being the targets of machine guns there was a great calm amongst Kurds on the contrary of the external depression of the sheep, cats, dogs, pigeons, mules and yet there would be no difference between the calmness of the humans and the anxiety of the beasts for really there might the possibility to be troubled by anything together. Human or animal who would turn the head a little to the other side, they should seal their mouth having found their eyes fixed on a new drop of blood God knows where it has dropped.For the mules' nose, crushed against the soil both new Caliph RTE and his rival F.GULEN claimed that the animals haven't been killed by gendarmerie but they committed with suicide because they were feeling their owners-the Kurdish villagers nuisance, and that tort seemingly not old yet new. Probably the mules were not killed after the machine guns firing from secret Soviet State's gendarmerie helicopters. The dead mules must have think that they were forced to escape from their Kurdish owners for the reason of all the tumult was the existence of Kurds in Turkey's Kurdistan. According to the Turkish Ayatollah abiding in Pennsylvania the mules must have a kind of good rhythm with the gendarmeries machine gun rattling concertino while they have committed with suicide over their nozzles' friction on the earth, and they even must have been chanting a kind of little tune while they killed themselves-the idiot Kurdish Mules. (Even if The Explanations viz. preaching of Ayatollah F.GULEN are silly all Christians should listen still to them in FM radio stations in ALANYA.)
    (THE CANADIAN MENNEQUINCAN FIGHTING FOR KURDS' RIGHT OF LIFE)
    Her nick name is "Tiger Sun". She has fought against The Islamic State-IS- terrorists and been wounded seriously then went back to Canada in the last weeks! How bearable all that was for her, my God. Her beautiful leg is almost facing the peril of being limpid, like the shot down birds. She would part her lips..now... Shall she press the pillows in her mouth to curb the exclamation of the aches she is suffering from? The search related to the ach based reflexes should end for the part of every inquisitive persons. It is ended. The worldly life is buried in the world just now and everybody should know that they would find their place at last. Evil awakens everybody, victoriously and yet calling the good to finish it. Humans are conscious about radical Islam, and seemingly the mankind from the very beginning knew the well civilized human would be happy one day. But she is wise. Why and how? Then it's to be remarked that she is a great humanist the best thing she would be to let the humanism go as far as it could do till reaching to happiness. And what must she do after healing? Probably will not go back again to the front, to the war fields she never longed to love, to the smoking of explosives all astir with turbidity in the white and clear air, but as for the bloody chaos she could manage, through her own talent to explore the beauty perhaps, through the love she nurtured in the ways of humanism, or through a pretty inquisitive pettiness. All the enemies of innocent Kurds are at the field, the sun warms the rocks in the daylight and the nights of desert make them glittering as an icy snowball. Yes, she leaves not her happiness in the war field where she was wounded and now she goes in to write down the Kurds unknown rights of living as well, and this task should be rendered without making any burdens for her. Perhaps The Turkish Soviet have judged her ill, but humans don't think so, and have not judged her at all. All she wants now is to make a last effort to understand, to begin to understand the enemies of humanity, how such fundamentalist Islamic terrorists could be still giving harm to the people. Yes, it is a question of understanding. Of what then? She does know very well. There she goes nonetheless, rightly. Day and night, storm of heavy guns and sorrow, and the universal debacle of the soul. That time she sees that the Kurds are good people. The last word is not yet said between her and them. Perhaps she simply would want to hear the old philanthropist call. Just once again after healing... Okay?

    A PC MOMENT OF SOLZHENITSOF
    (New Romantic Russian Novel)
    PART I
    CHAPTER III

    The wounded mannequin. She found daily life easier after coming from the front , that is to mean make ends meet in both earning money and spending time. There were the men, the women and children. a boy or girl as usual. No bombing attacks, no fleeing motherland, no tear more than the saliva before delicious Canadian delicatessen. There at least was something that might admit of no generalized controversy and yet peace first of all. In all the ways of that war story ehe fathers were known as henpecked instead of they would be powerful soldiers, football players, mafia members, scholars and the like. Great friend of humans-the wounded Canadian mannequin, and big she was indeed. She had married anybody or not the virgin Christian soul was still with her. This might be her first or second marriage. She had the love embracing all Kurdish, Jewish, Afro or Wasp besides Russian children here and there. Her family's grown men and women must have taught her what humanism meant, wanting for nothing more than bringing up a beauty availing on her body for she's a mannequin, and her heart. They helped her maturation, each one according to his or her means, or the task of the moment, out of gratitude towards her but for whom they had never seen in her private album of photos, or saying, with indulgence, If their task had not been aided her she'd have been someone else. Big mannequin has got peerless teeth in her mouth and all of them shone like pearls when she smiled as if she was regretting to pout strongly. Then she must have highly been thought of as a smile champion and a lady Hercules to disjoint of bloody hyenas namely the terrorists of The Islamic State (IS) and greatly sought after, without exaggeration, in that capacity. For her fee was the prayers of Kurdish little girls whipped by the executioners of IS and Secret Soviets, and she had even been known to demand no more, in return for her bravado viz. valiant services of hers in the front. How plausible all that was. The victims salvaged by her in the war field often spoke of her smiling power with great respect and excessively sensitive tenderness. That she liked to do will not be seen again, The Kurdish lads used to say, once she has gone; she must have heard this in stronger words and yet wouldn't like to emphasize them while talking on war and heroines as her. Her great days then fell in June 2015. Onwards she waited patiently didn't be too much eager about returning to her motherland . And yet backing to home should be something as the principal event of which is unquestionably similar to the Saviour's birth in the land of friction, battling, revolt, conspiracy, and confusion etc. while wondering if she would be spared till then. Then she'd be in synchrony wounded. And at the thought that she, the great mannequin, was on his way towards that distant motherland where it-might be-nothing was in readiness for her coming, and that in spite of her fresh age she was not still needed, and her mission preferred to those of older-or rather more experienced-people men or women, then her young heart vibrated out of a proper rhythm. From these expeditions she reached Canada at last, joyful and excited by the long road and the emotion of days to be spent at hospital... And for days afterwards she could speak of nothing but the Islamic Terrorists' State (IS) she had just chased like hyenas, and she would give big information about the world of IS devoid of both being human or beast, and it wouldn't be her fault if the world was not aware that hyenas who have no belief, no ideology but that abominable crime viz. throttling Judeo-Christians and Kurds. But they did not dare confess the truth, for they should be afraid of Pro NATO Muslims. Yes, at fresh age when most youth boast and brag, as if to make old ones to apologize for still being lulled before the crimes against humanity, she was keeping silence and her position to show only pleasure of finding the chance to hold out against those hyenas. And even her young friends had abandoned all hope of bringing her to make a show as a heroine, by means of her vitality for she knew what she would do to her if she did open it to them. And she even insisted on her making things non exorbitant for her, in ways that often appeared to her well balanced as a mannequin.Big Mannequin had pearl like teeth in her head and they were super white for she didn't smoke nor had got a cigarette-holder, while regretting too much beer also. She was highly thought of a lady crusader warring against IS-Islamic State oppression and Secret Soviet's mischief in Turkey. And at the least show of crusader on her part she would run to the hospital and will come back soon with the battle and go on with beating Islamist terrorists until they came round to a better way of thinking regarding human rights and the rights of women. All this by the way. And to return to the Islamist Terrorists, BOKO HARAM in Africa continued to abdicate Muslim girls namely its near and dear ones, of the evenings of full moon, while the lamps burned low, and raped them after the inner lights went off in the evening. Then all their ignoble conversations was of the hymen, so unlike the other in every respect, so quite unlike, and yet at bottom the same: hymen. For all hyenas would be alike, when one should get to know their little ways, struggle, horror, blood, cry, struggle, bleed, squeal and faint away, in more or less the same way exactly, a way that is all their own and could never be imitated by a genuine hyena. Canada. Canada was under the holy halo, flooded in war times with peaceful interventions and in the peace full of humanism. It was not possible to find a way to put it otherwise that it should give up its mission. And the medium did not belong to the front of hawks anyhow, but to all pacifists living near to Canada-The Mannequin's motherland or anywhere at a distance or in the most remote part of land as the Syrian Kurdistan wherein crocuses of affinity and narcissi of sympathy in extraordinary profusion, at the most appropriate time. The wounded mannequin remembered that there were relative ease at fronts waiting nightfall smoothly, Big Mannequin turned loose the collar of her hospital shirt. Strange to say the gift of war she rescued Kurdish babies would possessed by The Mannequin when it seemed of no help to her when it couldn't have come humbly, without a trifle of ostentation to camouflage it, and it was seldom her own exceeded exerts. Clapped into a tiny offer on the day of her medal's arrival, while she was in the hospital, it remained on the little drawer until the day of her departure. For The Mannequin's fans persisted in dreading for the enemies of humanity IS terrorists, though every passing moment proved her right in trying to sooth the effects of parade exercise. Daylight and fresh air she dreaded for her fanatics too. And it was finally an intelligent one amongst them, wise and strong so that he could carry the mannequin on his back in platinum box, having tied his ribs, and even glued anyhow in agility but without haste!

    It was needing of course praise and even eulogy the while for ingratitude must have been accepted something to be protested, at the top of all voices. For she could not or would not understand that The Mannequin-she herself was not to blame who has wounded her beautiful leg, but she herself ought to be applauded in a way of gaiety or rather at least unduly. And she would be persisting in her bravura who has overwhelmed a dead world full of Islamists' terror airless, waterless. Her wound was only a reminiscence left from the front. Here and there the patients were lying in their beds as water would do in crater under the shadow of overgrown lilies. Or were they plain thistles lost their ways, and what about the lichens. And nights of three long 24 hours she could not escape from the dazzling lights without being fed up that show she had not wished. The show should do on under the dearest of lights with pastel yellowish dots on bright yellow flowing lights. That's it, big appreciation of her nation or rather the civilisation thereto she belonged. How long would it have lasted? Three days and three nights or three days totally? Yes, no more, not much more than three days. Old sky of Canada was silvery with its special daylights still. In the old days she used to count, the numbers on the placards of the vehicles up: three, sixty, fourteen and the like. Then she would watch little-primary school student-visitors complaining not to be able to count her medals with other things too, the golden pens showers, the silver bells, the sparrows that could chatter from dawn time the time of nowhere, or with everything, for every reason, for the sake of chattering. That passed the war, she was war, and she devoured the war. In the excellently clean hospital The Mannequin had her place for signing her photos for the fans near the window to see and tell the people in charge to provide her with new copies or rather standard photographs if there were people still rushing into the entrance for seeing her. Big Mannequin and her assistance to convey her demands to the civil servants in charge of extra services could not leave their place lest the fanatic lovers of the star should come to catch her hand, then go back to the point they would have quit. The case of the heroine mannequin might teach the stars that escaping from anywhere could not be sufficient to reach a better place because the main work of fans should be tracing their idols even to the WC. or to the bed they would rather make an instant love with magnates or ordinary people except a butcher of IS...All jokes aside Islamic militants should to be left alone even if this expulsion might make them wilder, even really wilder than the beasts. And yet there wasn't so much work-besides signing photos-at the hospital, so much time so she could offer a peaceful hand to the IS-Islamic State-terrorists if she could dare to stretch his milky fingers to the those hyenas all suffering from sexual hunger. If any "Blondie" pausing an instant before them- charged with task to sooth their wilderness, or working amongst them, anybody might jump up her arms that-no doubt-would be unable to sustain his great weight, and letting that beast fall he should try the same thing again. Then she would begin to toss everything in her embrace about in a way difficult to describe, and not easy to understand by hyenas. It goes without saying that such queer movements resembling fight might make those beasts at once a maniac killer and necrophilia based raping heathen...The memo layers of the battle-The Canadian Mannequin took in part to defend the Kurdish Children's rights of living-field: of a wounded leg shaking with ache, or the parts of her uniform turned into rag in need of getting rid of its dust. And how rapid was the trepidation of the human extremities-arms, legs and what else hands dipped into blood pools that there seemed to be no moaning instead of the usual one. And yet there were the same time angry unanswerable questions, such as, What's the use of future? Her hair came loose and fell about her face. It was thick, blond and dirty, for she had no time to take a shower, and her face was pale and thin and as though dimmed with worry and rancour. Her lap would be sufficient there what should matter if her fanatics crane their heads to see her breasts, and even then try to touch the nipples they might call the headlights which invite the souls to clasp, to wring, then sadly resume their labour of obtaining her signature, reposting the libido flames and changing their position, drawing nearer to smell the same perfume together vouching its unique perfectness. taking its sacred smelling apart from those of the mankind's environment that would pollute the natural environment. But this could not be assumed as an ordinary pantomime and if there were be some ejaculations they couldn't have intended for heroine... For three days and several times a day she kissed the cheeks of her fans and took her photos-by means of her mobile-indoors and outdoors sent them-via internet-to the Islamic scholars and clerics of the IS-Islamic State-terrorists. Soon after they castigated her accusing that peerless pearl-The Canadian Heroine-of immorality or rather impudence. Yes according to Islamic terrorists all mannequins should be assumed committing with adultery They all ought to be seen as the creatures living without the least conception of sacrilege while the IS butchers-throttling the humans without shame or rather having got no value of humanity. Frequently the people who didn't know her came, deliberately insinuated through the corridor-where she was sharing her time with fans-in groups even in huge crowds then she keenly cared whether she was observed or not, whether the observed was what she was doing... It was urgent and could not wait, no, and she dropped everything and began to talk quickly besides using the advantages of gesticulate. Actually she never fell silent and stood still a moment, on the contrary hardly she has come to an hat before resuming whatever it was she had been underlying f or setting about some new task to rescue the Kurdish babies from the pounces of Islamic State terrorists or racist Soviet State's paramilitary troops oozing from Turkey. The Mannequin couldn't have remained alone seemingly from the window across the street, and the bowl of pasteurised milk on the table beside her bed in her hospital room. The sleeping time has been being forgotten in these summer nights for she had scarcely winked her eyelids during the last forty eight hours. She would apparently like her room dark in spite of the door and window open on the great outer light hindered from penetration there somehow. Instead of the illuminating designation through some mysterious openings one could see a poor bundle of light poured into, lit up the inner walls covered with luxury-washable-papers hued in violet, and tending to be died or left non-diffusing.

    The main theme of her hospital days, remind the fanatics of The Mannequin that coming from and going towards nowhere has been broken, entered a proper background construction attributing to meaningless details some significant determents and to survive to be died one day devoured by the fame making also dying from the point of her future. And at the least abatement of the inflow the world would grow darker when heroes and heroines should shine brightly, and the world's being darker should continue until nothing was invisible any more. Over the shoulders of bravura the dark might not stay triumphed. And The Mannequin, her face turned towards her fanatics their affinity so resplendent that it hurt her eyes, felt her at the crest and all about her the unconquerable exclamations, applauses, and she licked the adoration induced kooks on her face. Sometimes abruptly she turned to face the real reason of that situation, letting it wrap and pervade her, with a kind of invention. Then she heard more clearly the sounds of those at work of men touching her hips , the women shrilling, the director of the hospital cursing her lovers, say crazy and impudently patriotic. But silence was in the darkest of their heart for they could not be out of thought as the hyena type terrorists of IS-Islamic State. And the bustling or the visible alarm-clock announcing the dinner time was as the voice of that party which, like the illuminating dark, or rather the dark of illumination would one day triumph too after her treatment came to an end, and then all-availing throughout the hospital would be still and clearly bright-of darkening light- and all things at rest till another hero or heroine would carry thereto wounded in war of protecting Kurdish babies.Finally she took from his pocket come souvenirs she had brought from Syrian Kurdistan, gave them randomly to her fans. But it sometimes happened, before she decided to do something as that, before she went rather, for there was no decision, that a bibelot showing Saddam before and after hanged, the Green Canonical Laws written by Kaddafi in the sewers taking advantage of the open end serving to sporadic showers. The Mannequin would venture into the room at times, and no sooner had she crossed the threshold than she paused, her wounded leg hooked up... Then, reassured, she took steps-what steps likewise or otherwise- a little further, not timidly, but in accordance with wrath gushing DE PROFUNDIS-from the behind of her conscience. Yes it was a jet black wrath for she was similar of George W. Bush who was hating grey hatred, perhaps the grey reminds him of chicken. Actually far from being little chickens The Mannequin was a hen and ex president Bush a ****; both of them mature! The Mannequin got to know her well and, it seemed to her fans, to be well known by her. If he rose to their cheeks she did not fly into a flutter and yet finishing it directly. But perhaps there were several chickens amongst her fanatics, all grey and so alike in other respects that the eyes of The Mannequin, avid of resemblances, could not tell between them. Alas! Sometimes she was followed by some shadows in the corridors but they were only the workers of the hospital she was hospitalised : the first a janitor, and the second a lady in charge of ironing the bed sheets, even the third, fourth, bearing some tasks no likeness to the other, and but little to one another, in the matter, say, of instant problem solutions and the like. These provided her with more confidence than the fanatics who had led the way showing dry sympathy and come to no service. They useful shadows focused and slipped away in an instant in the fading lights growing dimmer as they advanced, and finally vanished. Shadows? Then safety first, instead of some shadows were of the people in just charge of it. They were the official body guards of The Mannequin fearing IS might have followed her hitherto. And yet the probability of something to make them to betray her presence as a heroine, so they-she and her most intimate social circle members around her began gradually to scratch their heads in anguish caused by suspicion both inflicting and growing to her content without relaxing their common fidgetiness. But often the suspicious shadows came alone-or rather one by one-or one of them escorting the other that one would prefer it, for that is a thing that will never be evaluated as free of danger, though it might well have been occasionally, without much frequency. As for The Mannequin all that was necessary, in order that it might be known whether there was only one or one with others, say, more than one drawing near to her. But after all what use would that-giving sufficient information about the shadows- have been? For it was quite possible there were several non-shadowy dangerous people, and it might be only a few of them were in the habit of sliding as shadows should do if the light source would be mobile. And yet the experiments shared through the internet by means of mobile phones should be worth making. Essentially it was quite possible there was only one shadow: that of The Mannequin who must have clinched that shadow based obsession under the influence of war. And yet that obsession were a thing that should never be neglected there...

    Actually all must have been if it should regarding somehow her security-two times already-known. For among other mannequins of the world who must have been protected against various perils, some were dead and the others have forgotten. And when it was urgent for The Heroine Mannequin they have had to be focused on this point making it more complicated or clear, and every mind set at res before it was too late. Then she would felt sorry she had not understood security as she understood podium always to profit by it. The importance that those hours were one day to assume, for her, those long hours in that modern hospital where, neither the show went on quite indoors nor outdoors at times. For a while she waited to be on her feet again, and in motion, and while waiting noted many things linked to safety. Among the things involved that big, anxious, even poisoned by IS-Islamic State terrorists were poisoned positions irresolute on the stable surfaces with atrophied hip shakings sexually. And so she went, all unsuspecting, with the a distinctly fond impression of having been present at everyday TV Channels of great importance. She ought not to stoop to go in through the narrow doors of TV studios because the cameras had to carried to her feet with their little winches, electric cable chain and mobile sockets etc. The extra shadows born of the great camera lights that bordered the stream of sunbeams near to her bed a chaos of gnarled buttons could be heard. And so she went, often unnoticed, in spite of his strange walk after having been wounded, she halted and suddenly started. If The Mannequin had understood the security problem of both podium and battle field she would have chosen another life for her and made more war less fashion show for from far off or from nearby emergencies would have occurred then. From behind the podium down the street directly was being impossible anyhow whereas the mannequins did not try to detain themselves or even call goodbye to see the truth: the friends wouldn't be resentful at her leaving them in a way that seemed so lacking in friendship. So mannequins knew the fugitive friends of theirs meant no harm. On the contrary the same quitting should be accepted as betrayal if at the time they could not help feeling a little hurt. This sort of feeling was quite dispelled a little later behind the podium, when they found it a wound to be bleeding forever. On the table of cosmetic she would have found crumpled papers containing a few little notes cursing her might be everything of haberdashery carrying her skirts to mind. And those terrible reactions, but oh how useless responses they would be. Nevertheless humanly reactions had to be shown indelicate way of giving a friendly message, dissuading the friend too from the view of point of warning having left dignity untouched, and having been prevented from it regarding this as an affront, in the way traditionally friendship required. But it would appear on reflection that The Mannequin's departure from the front-after having been wounded- could seldom have escaped from the reality: war would be more adequate for building beautiful friendship instead of odour, moaning, bleeding. For at the least moment within sight of Canada-her motherland, were it only that of a famous mannequin taking to wing within good relationship with other mannequins who would raise their heads and stared with wide eyes to her as observing a beautiful ape. And even far from away the podium, whereof the milky knees of thumbs were visible, and yet nothing could happen without the psycho-biological knowledge regarding the sense an sensation of mannequins they were not apt to identified regarding to the human's efforts and social fruits while all those who passed along the cosmetic show line and whose remoteness might reduce them to the size of a pin's head. Adding to it it's impossible to divine mannequins whence they were coming, where they were going, and for what purpose. Then they presented good tidings to one another, for they often worked at a little volume creating great distances apart from one show-body from another and from the audiences-or rather the visitors came to see the new fashion and the bodies in charge of its representation.


    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 07-12-2015 at 07:01 AM.

  5. #245
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    A PC MOMENT OF SOLZHENITSOF
    (New Romantic Russian Novel)
    PART I
    CHAPTER IV


    Turning towards the event that had been important from the point of her having got her leg wounded by IS-Islamic State's terrorists, and for it was a unique one, she found the staff of the hospital bowing themselves down to the earth before her-The Heroine Mannequin. And at the first spell of the rest of all events observed by people of Canada. Her photos were about the table or elsewhere, each instant smiling of hers gave her version of what had really happened in the front. And if at first they-her fans, were not in agreement about what they had listened to about her heroic story, they talked it over and over again until they were, in agreement or until they all would have resigned themselves to never being the fanatics of The Mannequin. So it was therefore difficult for public opinion to understand the unseen forces making her much more famous, even the bigger part of her struggle against the global Islamic Terror hasn't been told or the episode was in the deep shadow of the untold realities, even supposing her to have been capable of gliding, for her movements were rather those of one floundering in a quagmire.And all raised their heads and watched her as she went on with signing her photos for her fans and telling her story lived in the battle field recently. Then looked at one another, before stooping to the her beautiful face again. And on that face the world saluted the rights of Kurdish Children to live on the old earth where they would be playing as their ancestors had done-had played perhaps with a little smile or rather without moaning under any social torture each loving life perhaps if the others felt the same thing and making the resolve to ask each other to go on with the play at their next meeting. But the face of The Mannequin as she stumbled because of her wounded leg, shone more brightly now in the shadow of the timid appearances of her fans that could not be named easily. Then in the brightness of her milky hands waving erotic to some extent-of course, and the face of The Mannequin was keeping as always the gaiety, or rather full of expressions as a luxury wall paper. And when she halted it was the better to think, or to be the closer to pouring her experience simply without her voice had ceased that told her to go on. Then with her sparkling eyes she stared towards the skies, similar to her beauty, and to her abundance in help, and to caress the little wild many-coloured flowers of humanly happiness within the heart of her fans. But that situation were not to be short-lived, for she was still exerting utmost energy. When she stopped, as just then, they wanted to make her to talk again, and noiselessly should strangely be more correct than the loudly as an adverb, yes they would began to do the same thing before she resumed. That mechanism worked in " whose turn it is" form. So that she seemed having been the silky captive of her fanatics, and she have had to repeat the same style in each résumé. Then in a chair, in that din, as if promenading in the moors on stormy nights, she could tell the last word before the debut of his sentences from the beginning to the end of any paragraph in a cycle if the was some outcries as the groaning empty tanks.Each fan had its own wonder, just as no multi indifferences could be alike, and when the medium embracing her was still she would heard her heart beats afar like the iron balls clashing somewhere. Actually there was nothing, not even the sands colliding with the breeze in The Sahara that no sound did manage to be heard as a cry. The bustling bodies' mid-days too should give content to being perceived as still as the throne of the ancient Egypt's death deity. Those she amused herself with identifying, as she was in the hospital. Yes, she got great amusement, before his treatment came to its end she would be enjoy that so-called silence there.The sound she liked best had nothing than the voice of her fanatics. It was the tweeting of the birds, at times, or the sizzling of clusters thereby the emerald-designers would produce, like generations of jewellery magnates just before them. It came down to her where she sit down at the chair, in the corridor so much tidy and soft, at the limit of ear-sensibility, so weak. All in all the sound when heard over shaving precious stones were obliged to be heard swift and even weak from the strange point of humans. They were things that scarcely were, on the confines of sound measuring. So she reasoned then, at her ease that this was it.... Standing before the door of her hospital room semi deleted silhouettes of the ingredients of her useless owning list forced her to count them: window, table, bed, wardrobe, the other immobile to keep shoes, slippers, umbrella, and even the utensils to make a cup of star-buck , and a timber hand with a long handle to itch her back, a sort of hoist God knows to give what service to what organ of hers. She-herself ought to make a list of them in her practical cells of her memory not to treat them with regard but waiting the time to make something for them to end, for her joy to end as every end of joy rejoices us giving good tidings about new joys. And yet her business at the moment is less with these cantankerous objects than with her ears from which there spring two Nordic tufts of no doubt blond hair. She noted then, without avarice, that of recently asked questions seemed in need of have been improved. Oh not that she's ever even treated completely but for many hours she I has been hearing things clearly. There she could run again. What the doctors and her fans meant was possibly this, that the distances of the world, so long crossing themselves and making spirals which she used to be so avaricious at distinguishing one way from the other, and even from one another, had been dinning at her for so long. The volume of desire perceived remained no doubt the same as before she had to war to rescue the Kurdish babies from being burn alive, she had just mastered the faculty of composing her total libido: to rescue the Kurdish victims in The Mideast's, and make not love in the caves where the Kurdish families should live summer and winter instead of their lads were too much handsome. The invitation of nature to mate in those caves with of Indo-European stock lads-the handsome Kurdish youth the most innocent souls of the mankind from the point of helping Americans in the region. It went without saying: "Enough is enough", and she decided to accelerate her leaving hospital . She would willingly attribute her wound should make her to make, say, her fortune to this disordered sense were she not unfortunately rather inclined to look upon her having been wounded as a blessing. Fortunes, blessings, she had a lot of time to pick her words, she was not in a hurry to accomplish the finale. And yet no, she was in hurry. When she stopped, as just she did before a while, the noisy questioning eyes began to scan her face again, strangely loud mimics, those whose were at the threshold of turning into clamour. So that she seemed to have again the best hearing of their silent exclamations in order to hear only. No reply needed! Then in her bed for an instant, in dazzling darkness fed up by an impudent sun too much an attacking thing in The European skies just before stormy nights.Briefly The Heroine Mannequin said to her fans that she could tell then the cry of happiness from that of ache. As for the outcry without any reason, that of wooing of forests, the groaning little girls, and even the grasses they have crouched and the caves that sheltered them. Each baby-burned by Turkish Soviet's red or green namely the Maoist or Islamist paramilitary troops-had its own cry when the air was full of the smokes spreading towards bloody horizons. But her business at the moment was not to write down the findings of the battle field.

    So she meant nothing that was not calculated to leave her in doubt as to her real intentions. For it was a chance-dark or bright-that could be remembered for the time being as the documents of not a short memory. Her milky fingers glides before the landscape seen from the windows of the corridor she and the crowd of fans stood still chattering instead of the warning of the hospital administration that the end of their patience was near. But from the other side, they accepted that she must have been intending nothing but to guide everybody besides her fans. She did not want to write down all interesting experiences she tasted in the front, and she had to resign herself to them in the end. All dialogues in the field of battle was rendered there in order to know where she have reached to, where she would get to. At first she did not talked exuberantly, she just said something. Then she forgot what she had said. In consciousness of the scientific rule was reminding she of the principle that minimum of memory is indispensable, if one was to tell what one lived really. She told: "Take my Kurdish friends, for example, I really know practically nothing about them anymore. But that does not worry me, there-in internet links-is a record of them somewhere. It is the only way to keep an eye on their-or rather our common-enemies namely The Islamist Terrorists." But as far as she herself was concerned in the same peril and in the same field of battle she was to be as sensitive as her comrades about the war. It was because it was no longer she, she must have said so long ago, but another whose life was just beginning for they helped The Kurdish people to survive. It is right that she too should have her little chronicle, her memories, and be able to narrate the good and bad in a way unbiased. That was her mission. But there must be others, no less excellent than her. Yes, the war chronicles of KOBANI where Turkish Soviet burnt Kurdish babies was quite dark. None can see nothing. She could scarcely even see those events but more terrible ones saw she, and she heard the noise of little fingers of two days old babies as the glided to the heaven over the flames. That was what shocked her and made her to say that something must have changed. Whence The Mannequin might have been... Some questions have begun like this and the answer would be as negative as it could be, briefly: "No never, no reply, never..." Why not? And she heard hear also, "there you are at last", she heard a choir singing that refrain, and The Mannequin should be rebelling: "far enough away for me not to hear it when it goes harsh. It is a Cossack lullaby I know, I don't know how, and when it climbs to harsh peaks of the sound, and when it dies quite away as human's voice do at last, it goes on inside me, but too much inflicting, or making my wounded leg to ache too much , for when it comes on the air to me again it is not together with mine, but behind the battle field I came wounded, or ahead humanity trying to help Kurdish babies at least. It is a sophisticated situation, I know, if I am not greatly deceived. With the babies-I have rescued-too perhaps. I have the absurd feeling Turkish Soviet is conducted by a Turkish Capitalists. Yes, that secret Soviet State has been chanting the same anti-humanitarian and anti-liberal hymn for a long time now. It must have been rehearsing from 1923. It belongs already to the long past, it has uttered for the last time the triumphal cry by which it declares its weird intention: To eradicate both Kurds and The USA viz. the respectful member of L'OTAN / NATO together. Can it be-as being surmised by the Ayatollah F. GULEN and his sworn enemy namely the illiterate and innumerate Caliph RTE- The Armageddon? Week? Thus with the new Soviet-in the garments of Ottoman's soldiers-return to be the laughing stock of the world. If it might, might not their hymn I have just heard in the front coming from the side of IS-Islamic State terrorists backed by Turkish Soviet? Let me confess quite frankly that it is not yet quite refrained within me, could not this hymn have simply been to be learnt by heart and glory of whom who was the first to throttle the Kurds and Americans, and to whom who should have saved my leg after the third millennium in advance in its one and half decade?" Inasmuch as for all the necessities she has not written anything. Why? She must have fallen, etc. And yet she hoped that couldn't give any harm to the truth. She then added only some few lines written down for the sake of pen might worry her before departing from herself again. Since she did not depart from the front but was carried to hospital for her leg was wounded . Evidently she to speak of departure-might be serving to remind the fans of the beauty of her milky knees, ankles and the like. Any written document from herself with the same avidity as a week ago for example could serve hardly neither to the fans nor to her. For that documentary based speculations should be going on, then, for many ten hours, it should be over a week since somebody would warn her of delay. So she should be soon be safe and sound to put the point to the matter. If there would be any wrong thing to be argued again the reason should be detected over her beautiful legs. That ought not what one could have said, and one could swear to it, that is what she' d have written. The last speculations seemed familiar, and suddenly she seemed having written all of them somewhere before, or spoken it, word for word. Yes, she would occasionally be fond of looking for a good style in writing, etc., that was what she wrote when she realized she did not know what she had said, at the end of his hospital days as might be seen above, and whether subsequently or consequently the drafts she had formed, to write forced her to live as she had written... So she went to the front at last! To war at last against Islamist Terrorists IS-Islamic State-no matter die or alive! The Mannequin was going the way of all her other plans. She thought the good tidings should be rejoice Kurdish babies in coming days as she had smelled the liberal perfume of the near future, she really did. And she feared nothing, The Heroine Mannequin feared nothing any more. 2015 summer has been truly at hand. While she was preparing to open a new page in her dialogues with her fans she turned towards the window's panes of the hospital corridor and she saw the pane shivering with breeze, before the little cyclones pornographic to perturb the women's skirts ghastly . It is no ordinary pane, it brings her lights and voices. The humour of Good Samaritan had not fallen to the podium. It took not a long time to find the "Salvation" in the depths of heart. It was on ready as if lying under the bed he slept, dreamt, read newspapers in the morning or made love after some meals. How might such things be possible? They would be possible all over the world, and they shouldn't take a long time to recover it. They had been piercing through our souls from the time of Adam and Eve, but it has been realized in a hard way. So the front days when she fought against the Islamist Terrorists have written a thick exercise-book she could share with the fans in love with her milky hips turning their attention proportionally towards the humanist approaches at the same time while they were gazing her knees with a big sum of saliva behind their lips ready to lick her extremities. She hoped the world would see her out. From that time on she should write on every pages of her war notes where she did come from... Though she didn't know the spirit of "Good Samaritan" she has found it, just like that, the soul the world needed it without knowing. Knowing perfectly well she had no sufficient notes-as mentioned before already-so she ought not rummage in her possessions in the hope of finding one paragraph completed regularly. Naturally let it might not disappointed regarding the incorrect language, nor surprised at the newest English to be born over The Heroine Mannequin.Her adventure was ruled within the terms of humanity. The first days in the fronts were covered with nothing and devoid of symbols or diagrams to summarize her ideology for she had got not anything to be called as ideology but belief independent from the rituals of the believers of the earth practised with here and there over long or brief phrases. Physics, calculations, and other concrete applications induced scientific disciplines were dreary as she had reckoned. They seemed to her to stop suddenly, prematurely at all sense based on beauty linked events. As though she had been discouraged perhaps it could not be astronomy nor astrology would be fitting to her inclination. She did look closely to the classical curriculum that had been chosen by The Eastern and Western Europe. She drew a line, yes, I did draw a line between the Ottoman's Educational system and the of The Europe, and she wrote: "I cannot drew that line for there is nothing at the other side namely that of the Ottoman." Inasmuch as this finding was thoroughly true for the Ottoman Empire should be toppled down soon because of its lacking of any system of educational life. For the time being it should be quite giving its ghost in Palestine and Yemen in history, and so on in the modern times. Without even going on with narrating, writing or symbolizing her time past in the she leapt to the next page then next to that next to it, which was blank for The heroine Mannequin wouldn't like boasting. Good deeds need no to be bragging at all. Then she needed not dilate on her book of war memories and when it came to the newspapers that published a lot of news and articles about her she would merely say that the important people wouldn't prefer to write any proper notes or rather Items using the advantage of having been being too much written even with the colourful shows of photos to cover the main text. But she might well lose the file of memos between now and then, for temporary and permanent and all. The recital on the contrary was an old acquaintance, so she solely must have had it about herself when she was brought there. It had several faces. It was not long nor short. She hoped it would illuminate her situation outright. She was saying she did not depart from herself then with quite the agility somehow. That ought to be in the natural order of things, all that pertains to regarding her lioness heart must have be written there, including her inability to grasp what order had been meant. For she had never seen any sign of any, inside her or outside.

    As for the appearances, believing that they would be less effective than memos in words should be treating them unjustly and be vain. She shouldn't go into the details while narrating the incidents all over the battle field but her beauty would exhibit every trifling things in atom's weight importance. If the Islamic State Terrorists who had wounded her leg could see that really magnificent extremity they should cry, whistle, choke, go down prone, come up, choke, beg pardon, adore, deny, affirm, and lick her feet. Actually after such realistic responses from her enemies she would depart from herself more gladly. She would even have waited for that paradox induced behaviours from them. For what having done? She knew. What she had to do otherwise. She watched from the furthest boundaries of the front. She gave rein to her enemies' sexual pains, their impotence. And in the end it seemed to her, for a second, that she was nearly going to have a visit to let the Islamist Terrorists to lick her feet! The last touches of her treatment was then drawing to a close. The decisive moment was at the hands of MDs when the hopes reposed in her fanatics were to be fulfilled. She had been trained for war from hair to thumb, knew everybody: her docs and her fans. And Mrs. Nurseries, whose adoration to The Heroine Mannequin grew warm in the times of her coming in and going out of the hospital, and they would have prayed for her success too. Kneeling at her bedside, in her night-dress, she would have introduced her thanksgiving silently if it was not for the crowd of her fanatics. "Oh God grant me be successful, grant me be victorious, grant my friends scrape through!" When the first medal was gained there would be others, after every battalion show, several times in a life. But it seemed to the Mannequin-the heroine that those would be less terrible than the first which was to give her the chance to be wounded. She was giving a struggle for the medal, for the many medals. For she and her warrior friends felt that a more or less normal if not coward fighters, once admitted to the front of the task of struggling against Islamic terror professionally, was almost sure to b-with the medal of course- honoured after officially certified, sooner or later, apt to exercise them. One day, The Heroine Mannequin, should go back to the front, no doubt, so. she wouldn't sell herself in dry a chat with fans killing time in vain. A thief of the time? No, a good soldier shouldn't give up any second for even a mini second might suffice to be shot, and the same rule was valid in the podium as it would be in examinations, she whistled to herself. She took off her heart showed her cold part within her other identification as being a good, heroine, beautiful mannequin. " Leave me alone...so far...my dear friends" she warned the people in the corridor then. The rules linked to discipline conceptions of hers was almost hidden through the muscles of her heart containing the hard instructions for use either in the front or in the podium. The Heroine Mannequin. Suddenly the chairman of the department arrived at the miniature meeting area-the part of the corridor before The Mannequin's room in the clinic. Her treatment would be realized earlier than usual. But did she know what time would she be sent to home? Lightning, both dazzling and fading shadows were availing there. She was surprised to see the man, at a distance, in the green uniform of surgeons and she having been in the midst of the young looking fanatics, waved her hand to him. Her body was in the hole of the crowd, and she he had dug for her presence, which had protected its boundaries during the treatment. The chief surgeon came out of the bright staircase wiping his mouth as if he just has had his breakfast, and joined the group of The Heroine Mannequin's. The Heroine Mannequin parted her lips to salute him and held up the file of her photos for him to look inside. But he, instead of looking at the photos, looked at her showing an exaggerated adoration. He named the priceless existence of her at the hospital: The Angel of fight. Might it not be better, she said, to let her having heard it the day before her yesterday, to give him time to use the chance buttering her up? "You are right," he said, I'd not thought of that." "Or even two days before," she said, to give him time to change the power of his fingers while pinching her boobs if it should suit him. The birds beyond the open window of the corridor part they were occupying were singing that the author of their novel Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF was the same person-The Chief Surgeon; yes the birds, their yellow beaks agape to show they had been created not to be singing only, and yet lying impudently to make the writings of the author adorned with silly exclamations, which the chief surgeon or rather the author ought to correct. He wrapped with expert hands the messages of both The Heroine Mannequin and the birds in the hospital garden wrapped without using tissue-paper but the tulles of time. He was not pleased to be known for either the author or the surgeon should be hidden. The Chairman of the general surgery clinic would be the most fitting title for him for he had been writing the story of the Mannequin whose feet or knees or boobs he would love to lick as an Islamic Militant if not an Islamist Terrorist, and it would certainly suit him much. This conversation there whereof she and her fanatics have been chattering was renewed instantly . She asked, "Might it not be better if we just say good bye each other so that we could have meant it for getting round one day, if the time passed as we hoped? "Then we should do so at once," said the chief surgeon, "otherwise there is no point in it." To which Mr. Surgeon has made an attribution, after a silence, to some objection, and then, after a second silence, another objection similar to the first. He first objected that his patient-The Heroine Mannequin, should have time to break off, or lose that friendship, before her departure. He secondly objected that his patient, if she received the all positive results immediately, and assuming she neither broke nor lost friendship with them, would have time to get so used to it and, by comparing it with the hospital type relationships of relatively the most condensed friendship, so familiar with its defects, that its warmth would no longer survive. "I did not know mine was an inferior consideration," said Mr. Surgeon. Mr. Surgeon placed his hand on the shoulder of the nearest fanatic and sat gazing at that fan for some time. Then he buttoned his green shirt-its collar and left the meeting. The heroine Mannequin, cried, Mrs. Surgeon, came back and finished his speculation with a gesture of waiting! From the underside of the staircase they all listened to the steps distinct, fainter, too much clearer than mute thoroughly.

    A PC MOMENT OF SOLZHENITSOF
    (New Romantic Russian Novel)
    PART II
    CHAPTER I

    I then climbed out of the hole where the heroine and her fans, and the chief surgeon were chattering went out of it. Drawing closer my appearance in the mirror I saw the surgeon writer there. Then all became clear to me. I was still weeping for the mules that were lying on the soil after being shot by machine gun fire of Turkish Soviet Gendarmerie, and as had to be expected accused of " beastly suicide" without shaming that they're mere animals and they might have got no right to commit with suicide. Their bleeding or rather punctuated forelegs were 'stretched out straight and rigid, the twitching hinds drawn up under the belly' after they have thrown their bodies into the most heart-rending agony on their Kurdish owners' soils occupied in 1920s by The Turkish Secret Soviet State. Hyenas, crocodiles, their crimes against the living creatures and the righteous hippopotamuses' wrath cursing them even rescuing unlucky kittens of all sort of herbivores from those natural murderers by means of their enormous and amorphous mouth, and super teeth, under their the bulging eyes, composed of vengeance as a striking head. I have handed up to the bystanders the bitter and very dramatic deaths of Kurdish Children's tale over a wounded, heroine mannequin, and that task of mine is similar to providing the innocent young Kurds with shovel and the spade to help them in climbing out of the holes of the Mideast. The tyrants-Saddam, Turkish green Soviet Leaders, Caliph T.ERDOGAN and his rival Ayatollah F. GULEN, The bosses of fake secular, red Soviet KOC Holding and The HURRIYET Gazette namely AYDIN DOGAN had ordered that at least 40.000 should be killed, dragged the by the legs to the edge of the holes they would have dug themselves and heaved in the common grave type holes, on their back. If some of the legs, bulging from the earth to the heaven above the level of the ground some gendarmeries should have banged them down with the rifle butts.The new generations of the secret Soviet's gendarmerie would be handed the butt of the rifles to smash the brains of Kurdish babies, and cover the aperture of the holes covering them with soil after they thrown the mini corpses into them. I would like fill up the holes so and yet after I finished my miniature foresting in spring. On the contrary of my humanist approach both Islamist terror agents, Islamic intellectuals and the prototypes of modern-yet fake secular intellectuals stood watching the murders and the drama of graveyard construction through these weird holes. Before those humanly sufferings no deep sleep or no slouch calm stole over the world. Great indifference is a dangerous exaggeration. Yes we all have the right to feel better. And yet Islamic Terror should inflict the same aches to both the one slaughtered and the other looking at the bloodshed on the TV station programmes giving the abominable scenery in full colour. The end of a life is always a normal event giving abnormal suffering to whom witnessed nearby. I used to pause to rest when I would see the hyenas stealing the breakfast of the kittens of a lioness or rather the lonely mom, leaned panting on the prey and drawing almost to shed tears. There were great pink gaps in the cultural tricks thereby the Turkish Soviet swindled the East and West Europe. In 1920s this gang state introduced its communist loyalty to Lenin alongside with the threat of starting nationalist terror in the region of The Caucasus if Lenin and his friends wouldn't accept to be the suzerain of the gang's so called state. The secret Soviet States' magnates knew very well the truth of the people they tortured The People especially the great majority of Sunni Muslims had been loving Tsars' justice within the right, respectful, mild administration teaching the modern life and giving modern services to the people. After the Communist revolution the great majority of Anatolian Muslims followed the modernist Sultan-and real caliph of course-SELIM III. And yet the gang state-The Secret Soviet, has managed to conceal the reality from the eyes of The West Europeans and Americans saying that the Anatolian Muslims used to hate Judeo/Christians and their hatred ought to be controlled by the secular army till the great red generals like ERGENEKON pashas claimed that the republic/TC should be a satellite of The red China. After the red generals have found themselves in the court their culprits began to swindle The member countries of NATO introducing the fake caliph T.ERDOGAN and his sworn enemy Ayatollah F. GULEN as liberal Muslims instead of the crimes-known both by the fake caliph and so called Ayatollah and yet never confessed- of the Secret Soviet's aids to IS (Islamic State)terrorists! While the big Kurdish heroes and heroines fought against the Islamist Terror army of IS no authorities of Turkish Soviet would make The EU or The USA well informed about those realities. They sat by the window of their kiosks or palaces, smoking, drinking, watching the death of Kurdish babies. (As the Mannequin from Canada would know even some babies were burnt alive by the secret Soviet's Gendarmerie. I, now, am imagining that I sat down before that heroine mannequin who has been wounded in the battle field where she was trying to protect those babies, laid my hand on her wounded knee feeling my head too much eager to adore at least her shoes thinking she couldn't be alone within the boundaries of the European culture from, say, Portugal to Greece, to Russia, and to America. Between my head and her feet I might slipped to a kind of humanist romanticism while her wounded leg would seem as white as marble still. It stood still and I didn't help but beginning to talk again. Now that I should utter warmly: Pray don't say I seemed in good spirits for I couldn't be good as the mule that the secret Soviet accused it committing with suicide...The Halo Family again-the main theme of this writing. Yes, enough talking , it's time of writing from the debut of what is the basics would be here. Khali had heard a word or rather a part of the mostly used speeches-The American Dream. Mr Halo told something about it: in his opinion, it couldn't died of old age. He had adored it, two years before he has seen the lightening of it, on the horizon line between the Syria and Turkey where the secret Soviet should have been hiding still its gendarmerie's way to the slaughter-house might be full of Kurdish people, say, groaning blue collar veterans, moaning grand moms, little girls and weeping babies between a frequency of crying and giggling. So he could not complain of the future for future would be The American Dream... After the interlocution Khali-the son of Mr. Halo predicted that the secret Soviet would drop down dead at the first war with any European stock civilisation, or rather, discipline no matter it might be The USA or Russia. But Mr. Halo was a connoisseur of fake secular or anti radical Islam circles of The Constantinople under the occupation for six hundred years. In the case of international fraud mastered by secret Soviet bowel gas intellectuals' friends from the Europe or The USA that counts, the rest is unimportant. So he tried to describe the vaudeville enchanting the European Culture people: they're looking the European full in the eye, at the gates of the ethnic cleansing heaven-Bosnia Herzegovina and swindling the world that the Bosnians had been slaughtered not Serbians, and said what he saw: the international fraud power could still be made to serve form the point of the Secret Soviet. The Halo Family, The Americans, The Kurds, Kurds and Americans should have been gazed by Islamic Terror State's butchers before they have been beastly beheaded with a blind dagger carrying at least twelve people's-women or men-yes at least twelve people's blood drops dried in obligatorily in ellipsoid stains whereof the cores should be creamy or shaped like newly dropped jelly matter, and the victims-Kurd or American-should have returned the butcher's gaze. If anybody ask where is the yard of the slaughter-house one could answer it without any toil: the region where The Kurd lives. As Halo Family's story is unfolded the slaughterhouse will have been loomed larger speedily. Thus the site of the IS-Islamic State-or the slaughterhouse for humans shifted gradually from the abiding place of the victim that led to the slaughterhouse for human thence to the holes used as grave. Yet a little while and the victim would have contended to be throttling. And yet the look in the victim's eye, Mr. Halo insists, would be like a prayer to the butcher to forgive the throat the Islamic terrorist was going to cut. Even the eyes of the victims that had thought of committing with suicide would be covered with sores, Mr. Halo reiterates and in the case of Kurdish or Americans that had been beheaded by Islamic Terrorist one should let oneself thoroughly be deterred by frankly and humanitarian sores. story he kept his eyes fixed on his son. Time to time Mr. Halo kept his eyes fixed on Khali-his beloved son. There they sat o the sofa traditionally built and yet gilded upon every protruding part of it; a round table before them, in its full brightness to reflect their richness the famous capital and revenues, and estates of their lucky Kurdish family. But especially the Ayatollah F. GULEN abiding in The USA/Pennsylvania who cried and bubbled the name of his sect's god, speaking over some hundreds radio stations all over the world, listening-stealthily-a lot of famous pillar of states including of all the Mid-East Countries, and by means of remote tribute has been robbing Kurdish rich people lest they would be forced to flee their native lands. What's the matter in taking care of a secret Islamic Terror chief in The USA is the reality countering another reality from the point of weakening a fake Caliph, say, uneducated and untrained, instead of the distance far from each other. The USA surmised, seemingly, that the pseudo Ayatollah F. GULEN could have influence the polls in general elections but that project has fallen flat, and the so called Ayatollah GULEN hasn't managed to steal even 0,05 % part of the votes The heap of votes was dwindling, the economical paradigms shone strangely in the chaotic light after the people went to polls. Political susceptibility were near to be glowing as fires to burn the Kurdish babies again in the fading light of peaceful attempts made by secret Soviet state. Mr Halo stopped often to rest, leaning on the pillow ornamented with golden strips and looking about himself. "The slaughterhouse like Mideast made the secret Soviet to be used to dig profits from Kurdish innocent blood," said Mr. Halo, "that's where it sold mildew rich biscuits that couldn't be eaten by any humans and bought sheep, cows etc. that could be used in eating their tasty meat, making loafers, and to produce and to sell first quality suits made of the wool stolen from Kurds. Would one, please look at that loafer?"

    The next day he would go out and set to work, beside his son. They used to work at times together, heedless of each other. Then either Mr. Halo or Khali would drop his stick-the most familiar apparatus of Kurds for ten thousand years, turn aside and move slowly away. Essentially their shepherd was no longer invisible turning around a hill or descending from the shadows of its crest. The face of the earth is the most apt surface apt to complete camouflage. so one could see the objects no more when they kept to be on the natural doom of any height in earth. For they knew how the well camouflaged, dead or buried tend to be seen, and contrary to what one might expect, the living body to be invisible at the heights in which they resemble the swimmers All over the oceans the dead should be the first to be seen whereas the shepherd occupy nowhere in the horizons while walking at the top of heights. Mr. Halo had made allowance for this when taking care of the rest of the cattle grassing around. Khali and his mother passed each other by in silence when Khali went back to home. She had been to see poor neighbours, to help them or rather providing their families with milk, bread, egg, butter or even dried meat for it was the month of Ramadan which would call the believers to dine together at the time of praying. She was thinking of the heaven that should rejoice them who had served to neighbours. Before her husband too she rapidly passed with a little glance, and in his attitude-while caressing the little lambs jumping or trying to jump more or less, there was nothing to suggest that he had seen her either. Before she went into her room the whole house was put under the lights shower already by the cousins of Khali. They were for a time the guests of Khali, and very happy to live in a rich relative's home that stood as a kiosk at the country side. Their usual place would be before a voluminous, modern TV set mounted on the wall of the big drawing room with its luxury the chimney piece, beside the quartz clock placed on a giant, antic mantelpiece. The gold plus rarely found wood based armchairs, being the lowest parts of the chic furniture items but the carpets, had to remain in the middle to be fitting to move towards everywhere, and the reading lamp on its tripod and could not change its places because of the nail fixing it to the wooden or rather too much luxury laminate floor.She stood with her ornamented basket and as if the light had went off having her hands pressed against the wall, her panting was the one and only sound source until she might turn to their guests to salute them. She rushed kitchen towards the gas oven and turned it up and put the cheese pie into it in a silver colour tray . Seeing Khali she first thought he was hiding there not to listen to the dramatic events Mr. Halo has got used to narrate gaining the-last-unfinished as the starting point... Then her evening thoughts flew to the untold stories of poor Kurds to whom she and her family got used to help especially from the point of providing them with food or rather-UHV based long life-feeding material. She set down the plates on the table and the outer world-poor or rich-went out so that soon there were many dishes on the table adding to the "Today's Soup" and the cheese pie. But suddenly with a lovable gestures her nephews came to embrace her. Now that it was the a bundle of artificial light's shower again in the kitchen the dark outside gradually faded without leaving neither the least darkness nor anything lightened anyhow and Khali's mother, her eye against the windowpane, was able the to serve a faultless dinner to the guests and the household. She could have gone on sorting haricot beans all night and to achieve her purpose, which was to satisfy the soft palate of all using all sorts of mixture especially in soup boiling and dressing the dishes. Nobody on the earth surmise that in the end she would have stopped, saying, "I have done all they can do for their ancestors are from The Europe and their language is a member of Indo-European tongs. For instance the mother in English is MADER in Kurdish. MADER; PEDER; BIRADER are mother, father, and brother in English and so on... " Yes the Kurdish people could not have done all they could have done because humanism would hinder them to burn the babies of their enemies. And yet the secret Soviet State could do everything including to betray I'OTAN / NATO of which Turkey is a member state. Without L'OTAN Kurds couldn't survive. L'OTAN! At the special moments come when one this European organisation desists-what would be an exaggeration-because it is the wisest thing to do... Being discouraged? Maybe but not to the extent of undoing all that has been done. What if the purpose of L'OTAN, in desisting? To desist excessive-rather- exaggerated humanism in the name of humanism itself without getting rid of all that is humanism and of the greater part of what then? Of course the same conception: humanism! Humans-all of them-must have known that Israel also could be managing to run on the strained ropes. Kurds too could know how to do it while protecting their new generations from being done away with whereas there are other tasks as caring the main source of earning their salt namely to take care of cattle, other days, of which they may fairly safely say that they might have finished, though the killers of their babies do not see which.She went to the kitchen and came back, holding her head high and a little to one side, so as not to be seen swimming in pride. In the other hand she took pride of Mr. Halo's big money that enabled her held a great chance to chase the Turkish popular pop music artists or rather so called artists in dressing to show a la mode garments whereas the guests were her nephews, and they were nor so chick as she was in another saying open to take amiss before her beauty they were far from, or might envy her getting angry with her from the sheer envying. They had time to do so because they would be with Mrs. Halo while sojourning there long. Mrs Halo caught the situation often by eardrop, and wouldn't like to have her guests disposed in any position to receive the blow of envying, whether upon their sense or feeling. And Mrs. Halo knew that often one would strike an envying soul to make it envying, without knowing it. If they-the guests-had just seen half of dresses of Mrs. Halo and been the prices of those dear items they wouldn't be able to find the possessions of theirs well they used to satisfied with behind their walls as nibbling at their leaves. And they couldn't be able to congratulate themselves on having succeeded with living up to, and not felt unnecessary sufferings, whereas in reality they have possessed all that troublesome things for the sake of nothing. Eventually such weak balances would occur to be open to infractions most frequently in daily life day or night, from the point of inner depression being felt greater in the night. Guests on the other hand might more stubborn fashion lovers and some have been observed, with the stomach far off being fed healthily, to cut capers before taking under control and even show their great needs for many things a la mode till Mrs. Halo would donate them with precious souvenirs from, say, Damascus, form Beirut and the like. Their male guests are less impressionable and sometimes even struggle against accepting presents from the rich ones, unless they did something to be awarded. Mrs. Halo was considered such matters solvable for she believed that all the concrete problems must have been open to a lot of solutions matching them . "Little devil!" she cried, the spiritual or moral frictions have been progressing resistance in the way of to be eased easily. But Mr. Halo was already far away, trying to take care of the cattle floundering in the nearest meadow grasses. Soon afterwards Mr. Halo, then his son-Khali, attracted by the savoury smell have been sitting around the dinner table. Sitting at the table, face to face with their guests, their eyes having averted from each other's eyes, they would ready to full their empty stomachs. But Mrs. Halo, the mother, would like to be mobilized at every occasion.

    But neither Mr. Halo nor his son could approve her excessive mobility, the former because he would have preferred her to eat with everybody at the table, the latter because he held that to consume what she cooked at such an early stage of dining should be her right. Their development in protection of the lady of their home, either of them, it was all the same to her, would be mature more just a little. And Mrs Halo told them to hold their tongues and went on with running from one corner to another to fetch something containing pepper, ketchup, vinegar or olive oil in flagon like cases. All she had to do was to gaze the table and fix the lacking items to be completed. And carry them on one another at times. Mrs. Halo would like also to go to the door, listening the dogs barking, called and feed them too. In the far distance the their kittens remind their existence of Mrs Halo, and she replied them that she would about to reach them too. Mr. Halo and his son called her back impatiently...She's coming, she said and yet a long time passed before she came. When the meal was over Khali went up to bed, so as to swim in his pre dream peace and comfort before the night mares made by the official murders linked secret Soviet State's Gendarmeries joined his night rest as in the case every sleeping Kurds for they shared the same night mare. Not that his changing capacity was restrained by modesty but the time of the Jesus Christ would come when He should change the night mares into the colourful dreams. Nor was he, when the family members of Halos was open to the weird imaginations there. Their home is a rich Kurd's Family, and certain or rather strong refinements were possible at any time The God would like... Al of them, dad, mom and the guests then went up to bed, for a particular reason. feeling security in dreams-lf not sleep-and refresh their souls worn out by the wild attacks of Turkish Soviet's Gendarmerie. They would have gladly slept with the common hope that The Jesus Christ would come down to earth and the duality of wolf and lamb should live together. Yes the Kurds of The Eastern and South-eastern Anatolia too believe in salvation by The Jesus Christ, They don't mean their rescuer over the term Father but the breath of the God who would have the Kurds moaning under the oppression of gladly slept with their specific American Dream, the time was long past and gone when they would have seen even the secret Soviet butchers gladly slept with a salvaged spirit. Salvaged from the quagmire of bloody murders... And something should hold them back. And they did not seem eager. But the Turkish Soviet was still young. Blood shedding then was in the air. Mrs. Halo the only member of the household who had the greatest desire both to sleep and to wake up with the same dream: Peace! She saw it coming with hope not indifference. Frequently she went out having escorted the tomcat of The Halos. Alone with her cat Mrs. Halo sat watching the dogs eating the big bones-for the thin part of the skeletons of avis might wound the oesophagus of the canines-of grilled chickens. She was crouched beside her dear cat before the range of big dogs gnarling-God knows for what reason whether out of grudge or zest-in a mom characterized attitude of satisfaction. After coming back to the dinner table she told herself to eat and began to eat the remains of the lamb, out of the service pot, with a spoon. But it is hard to look steadily for any standard life at The Mankind, even when you are resolved to for suddenly they might get interested in you and saw you as the most convenient object to be looked steadily they stood up or sit down, even having been lying at another place briefly likewise engaged in that process as you did there would be no chance to name your position: observing or being observed. Then in taking back your attempt there should be only one way to escape from being observed namely hiding somewhere or getting the best way of camouflage capable even to conceal you from your eyes. But seeing oneself still so sad that one's cheeks would be wet with tears. What gaiety. If they wouldn't watch Turkish programmes-run by secret Soviet state-Kurdish programmes run by the same enemy of humans' intelligence gang on the TV? No, it wouldn't be the same thing as they would prefer to choose their mother tongue induced news, music, political comment. "Halo Family"...The Halo family, the family of Halos, Mr. Halo, Mrs. Halo, Their beloved sun Khali... Does it matter about the Halos? Yes, yes particularly Because while one wouldn't be with them the one could be lost in The Great Mission of Kurdish People carrying liberal thoughts to the part of The Mideast neighbouring to Turkey. How one's plans could be getting on, one's plans, one had plans not so long ago. Perhaps the world has another ten years ahead of it to see The Great Mideast embracing The Great Kurdistan. The Kurds! One should try and go on all the same, a little longer. If one thought elsewhere, one wouldn't be able stay there.


    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 07-19-2015 at 11:30 AM.

  6. #246
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    A PC MOMENT OF SOLZHENITSOF
    (New Romantic Russian Novel)
    PART II
    CHAPTER I
    (Continuing from the previos page)

    One should never hear oneself rebuking, afar off, from one's far mind, giving information of the Halos, one's mind wandering, far from there, amongst the ruins of Kurdistan. Then Mrs. Halo was alone at the table for the others finished their delicious meal. She sat down by the chair thereof her cat gazing Mrs. Halo waiting if only she should finish eating and her cat itself take her turn and turned off the break not to let its apatite flare up as it always did before devouring its plate out of grudge as because of it might be as its great and voluminous apatite. When Mrs. Halo thought the hunger of her cat she would had cooled it sufficiently for she knew that her cat suffering from obesity a little.When her cat was consuming its dinner she stood in the proper erection of her posture, bent towards it to satisfy with its satisfaction and yet having not bowed forward with her hands on the floor, before she stand up again. Her day of aiding everybody over, and day dawned not any other toils within her except to watch TV, sipping her tea rigged with lemon slices till midnight. The diligent pains of an ordinary life was amusing her. Sitting, moving about, she bore them with great enjoyment. Then wrestling with night life-as having awakened by the pressure of urine, turning left and right or vice versa in bed. Regarding to the pit of this unending happiness her sigh should have taught that the good and bad days or night of luxury life ladies toil would be going up unendingly, a day to be being missed when it was night, a night that to be missed when it was day, and sunlight and in night under the genuine crystal chandeliers' dazzling illumination shower, cheerfully, for the light the ladies had been told about, and told she ought to understand outright, because it was not like those they should be taught as the summer time couldn't know why its sun ought to be setting down like the sun of winter would pull it off, to their attending to the guests at the dinner table if the guests would even be, say, their relatives at the most last sitting up straight on the chair if not standing up not saying of bowing down over the table, with little sleep but much more sleep than it would be in her bed.Often they moved about any proper place viz. a room, the home the market-place and the like... For years then it had been going on ordinary numbers times ordinary number or more. Mrs. Halo told herself she was at the pre- menopause, but half heartedly. She had been told that the night in the bed would have seemed less night when things were bad as menopause or love to be worn by time, and the night couldn't be night even if the sun had gone before the stars were shining because the stars might not be shining too. She stood gazing up at herself. there is only one warranty linked to her body saying there could be no guarantee. It was all the ways that had one moment rejoiced her, and solaced her at another time. She would go to the well of chance and grasp the chain of mood. The bucket of daily psychology was at the bottom, so it was in such a lottery mode. Not her decisiveness as it would be in the case of her husband could stray along the sinuous links of feeling better. Her mind was an exhibition of formless questionable paintwork , and, might make it to flow in mud mingling and crumbling by means of limply way away... Sometimes she seemed to have to deal with her son's youth revolting, that minor worry, then lying asleep in her bed, to be wakened for a glass of water. Hearing her mother moving towards the Frigidaire , he was on the point of getting up and help her or rather to thank her at least. But it was only the next day, or the day after, that she decided to tell Khali what Mr. Halo had told her, namely that he was going to scald him and would not back his word. Then, as people do when someone even insignificant dreary events, she might have summoned up such memories for remaking them together as they had been left in the shadow of memories not to be remembered at all!Vital importance circumspection. One day she took counsel of a Russian Good Samaritan on the subject of bravura. The Russian good believer's grand dads had migrated from Ireland and reiterating the same motto: "That must have been when one was still looking for someone to be faithful to Teacher-The God. Then she opened wide her eyes so that all the friends and guests of hers might admire her limitless depths of her happiness near to turn sadness for it has started to be seen really having got no end, and introduced the happy one a monotonous future phosphoresced at all not open to be spoken. Why? Because only the open ended things could be told. When she clean the dining room her face was to be so close everything that she felt the little drops of fresh water instead of hot air and sprays of cokes, and she too, no doubt, on her. She could see her still in the rooms like that, the fit of exerting past, wiping her sweat on forehead, and herself, with downcast eyes, pained by her soiled skirts. For the time being that she was no further use for cleaning from the very beginning. She was happy, at the other side she had a cat. But all she had to offer in that way was a swift voice nightingale. Mrs. Halo used to try and teach it his son Khali-when he was a little boy-to say, "May God be with us!". These prayer little Khali managed to repeat well enough, but the celebrated restriction was too much for Mrs. Halo's son. This annoyed not him whereas he didn't love to be out of sportive slogans first and then political mottos or rather ideological fragments, he has kept nagging at utterances learned by heart before beginning all over again. Then both Mr. and Mrs. Halo flew into a rage and retreated to their armchairs to give a cold shoulder to little boy... It were very fine years, with every convenience, play and sing and run and mischief deeds. He was even forced to overwork, learn the names of all persons around them even if they would prefer to call him bad names, such as Khali-Halley and so on.Sometimes, through her sub-consciousness or rather her libido namely the windows of sexual ripples steering all individuals towards social share facing one's mate apparently! But that offers nothing for she was married and needs no more to do with her basic wish to prove anything. Or so she would say. On the weird day-20th July 2015-Islamic State's terrorists used a female butcher viz. a suicide bomber to slaughter 31 Kurdish youngsters, and wounded more than one hundred friend of the killed ones. The awfully bloody Islamic Terror attack proved that the suicide bombers were being trained in Turkey too under the government of dandy Caliph R.T. ERDOGAN besides the Bosnia whereof Turkish Ayatollah F. GULEN-abiding in The USA-ought to be seen within the hinterland of that Islamic maniac having been the sworn enemy of Turkish Caliphate for he was after n being the World's Muslim Emperor over his 1600 colleges all over the world. Actually aggressive atheist, superficially modernist or KEMALIST Soviet State has holding tightly the bridles of both Hyenas-rabies and nationalist-F.GULEN and T. ERDOGAN together-without knowing-and in bickering on purpose.

    One of his dearest friends of Khali was killed in a suicide bomb attack in Urfa by Islamic State's terrorists just yesterday-20th July 2015 Monday. Poor Khali would have been feeling cramped. Khali-lost his beloved amicable one-used to call his "Super Lamb" i.e. the lamb of The Jesus Christ ready to be sacrificed after the father had been crucified. He did know who was the owner and teacher of the Islamic terrorists-The Secret Soviet of Turkey, and yet couldn't define exactly, perhaps because of the Kurdish expressions. he could not help but thinking while talking Turkish that the notion of modernism of a nomadic horde couldn't be adapted to that than of the liberal world for the modern women of modernist-KEMALIST-Turkey would like not to wear any panties say nothing inside of the super miniskirts of theirs in order to be adopted by the Europeans. They must have thought their big TUBERCULUM PUBICUM OS PUBIS that would be seeming under the wavy skirts at times could make the red communist or green Islamist butchers of the secret Soviet State viz. the teachers of IS militants could make The Turkish Nationalists' murders either having under pant, pink panties or having not at all-to be forgiven by The EU or The USA. What a criminal tedium :Now think! Anything but wind to exhibit the skin near to genital area of Turkish Soviet's modernists might be useful in the way of having got the liberal word to forgive their secret Soviets murder teams those directed by T. ERDOGAN-Green Islamists-, the others governed by F. GULEN and the nationalist/racist paramilitary troops paid by KEMALIST commanders. Islamic terror would be also a means of cheating The Europeans because both the modern aspect and contemporary behaviour induced KEMALISTS whose women would trying too much to show their pubic region for assumed as being the friends of The Europeans and the racist and Islamic militants could not be differ from each other, and there were no different groups within the Turkish intellectual circles as surmised by the liberal-civil world. That was never persuaded Mr. Halo that there was anybody loving liberalism as the main truthful ideology of modern times besides The Pro NATO Kurdish and Turkish people who should be going on with looking for genuine liberal leaders to be voted in at the polls... Khali's relations with the student friend of his who has died after the attack of the suicide bomber has hit the several hundred students last day. The life span of Kurds were of short duration as could be appreciated by the skill of Islamic Terrorists. Khali could have put up with every Muslim urchins-no matter they might be Turks, Bosnians or Chechens-as a friend, but never, never an Islamic Terrorist. unfortunately instead he found Islamic Terror too much disgusting, as IS militants, those whoresons. Occasionally he tried, for a time, to lay hold of a queer spirit among the anarchy or terror tending inferior people without any positive output as if the samples were all plague-stricken and had been designed not to be dissuaded from accessing anywhere mild if not good but everywhere as they would have been intruded on Khali through side infringe and connoting, making his heart palpitating with horror. He found good or rather healthy deeds amongst good people and yet with the bad or rather insane too he hasn't failed, even if it could be by a hair's-breadth. That must have been the way with Khali then. But the point is rather what is the way with him now. When young people were still be slaughtering by the Islamic Terror of Turkish Soviet whereof the modern leftist or rather pseudo anti imperialist but genuine generals in the past how could he have escaped from being filled with awe. The house of poor or rich Kurds is full of horror finally on the day 20th July 2015 in SURUC/Urfa the cradle of Abraham's teachings DE PROFUNDIS. What an huge paradox. And he thought he had it all thought out. If Khali had the use of the dead bodies killed by IS backed by Turkish Secret Soviet would try and explain the eternal evil of The Secret Turkish Soviet that owned F.GULEN Gang, its sworn enemy-AK Party of T, ERDOGAN, The fake friend of The EU and Jews-A. DOGAN, red generals and green polices. Perhaps the secret Soviet State had the knowledge of innocent Jews, Europeans impotence that emboldened it to use method of killing the most intimate friends of new civilisation makers in the Mideast-The Kurds. All relentless butchers of Turkish Soviet hanged together, Kurds are in chains. Unfortunately Khali didn't not know quite what step they were on, perhaps they were at the threshold of being done away with. Turkish secret Soviet was apparently trying to shut the doors banging in Kurdistan, and to take the steps on the stairs going to ethnic cleansing. The noises in the street were coming from the weeping Kurdish mothers who have lost their children, had to be enlightening the liberal world, on this subject. All Khali know was that the living youth were there where the Secret Soviet's Islamic suicide bomber has made chops of the humans' body, in Kurdistan and around it. It followed at least that the Kurdish young victims of 20th July 2015 were not in live any more, and they couldn't, say, at least sometimes see the sky.After all Khali felt himself in a kind of empathy to understand the Greeks, Jews, and Armenians who were tasted the most abominable ethnic cleansing in Istanbul (6-7 of September 1955) whereof the victims were to be the street in reality more inflammable than a wide hell or a volcano's aperture with all other sparks opening upon it. But the noises of the uncivilized mobs covered their cries rising to the God up from a satanic land. Were the steps climbing towards Kurdish families including that of Khali? Perhaps there were other IS namely Islamic State attacks backed by secret Soviet State bitter than those of the victims bombed in 20th July 2015, why not? In which case the question could arise officially to the land they were on, there is nothing to be gained by Khali's saying but the news that the halo Family might say rising up from Urfa to the vertex of Turkey's Kurdistan, the steps that secret fascist quasi modernist HURRYET Gazette announced that were climbing towards Kurds, could they really do so? Khali had no proof that they could do. To conclude from the terror, horror, and the like that Khali's mom was a prey to the Kurds' near past pure and simple and yet stained by torture, ethnic cleansing, and blood shedding would be her fate however a step she hesitate to take there should be no use of escaping from half dreams-weird of course if nor hallucination-inflicting more than the real things . And Mrs. Halo did honestly believe that in her house there were people suffering from the same shadows coming and going and even conversing, and caring multitudes of fine babies, or defending their parents against motionless making to keep moving about from one place to another, to prevent their forming the habit of old age habits from the most part of the view motionlessness, fearing of the day lest when they wouldn't have to move about unaided. Inasmuch as all the murders considered she would be hard set to say for certain why exactly they were, in relation to what exactly Kurds had done. And when all would have been said and done there should nothing more like a step that gaining any human right than a step that loosing or even that paces to and fro forever on the same level.. One could mean for one not only in ignorance of the position of one's people and consequently of what one should be to expect, in the way of reaching to more thought, belief, and life rights, but at the same time more than half devoid of the. There should be naturally another possibility that couldn't not escape Mrs. Halo, though it'd be a great disappointment to have it distorted. Actually that was that the Kurds were dead already and that all continued more or less as when they couldn't involve in the matrix of their lives. And seemingly the neighbours and friends lost in an abyss in the mountain they knew, or even in the sea they didn't know. In which case all the trouble the victims have been taking for some time past, for what purpose their relatives could not clearly recall except that it was in some way connected with the feeling that their troubles were nearly over after G.W. Bush punished the chemical murderers of Iraq namely S. Hussein and his family members. But her angel-sense told her she had have not yet quite ceased to gasp and could rescue the wounded students as it summoned in support of this view various considerations having to do a lot of things for example spending on poor students lying at the beds of the service of urgency whereof the system of nutrition and elimination would make a big problem for both the patients and the health service team. Whereas in reality all that was perhaps nothing but her melancholy.

    Let's take for example the light that reigns in the caves of human brain and of which the least that can be suspected negatively, really the least, is that it is against uncertainty or rather against bizarre. The Kurdish Good Samaritan-Mr. Halo enjoyed a kind of light night and day, fervently, often it might be tending to the pitch dark outright perceived as the light because the secret Soviet is the one and only terrorist State organizing suicide bomb attacks thereof one could fancy one was to enlightened and accustomed to it, before one found oneself here reading the terror in Turkey's Kurdistan officially organized by the Turkish Soviet and castigated by the same secret Soviet state. Example? There is cicada horror, horrific incidents as examples. Mr. Halo used to be, at times, in big darkness turbidity and at the threshold of losing his wise thoroughly because of the lies of Turkey's secret Soviet regime that would insist that The Europeans were playing all bloody plays in Turkey. What a tedious hypocrisy by the secret but main state introduced from the very beginning and seeming to be go on forever. Mr. Halo and his family should be waiting with some impatience for dawn to break, having need of its light to see terror based government's sins in certainty.1. According to Mr. Halo and his family both great bodies' parts and little things which should be scrutinized occasionally were difficult to see to in the dark. So they as every Kurdish family sure enough little by little that the dark ought to be lightened so they could be able to appreciate over their-historic-bitter experiences the objects they required to catch on. But the light, instead of being the dawn created by The EU in the beginning years of 2000s, turned out in a very short time to be the dusk under the effect of IS-Islamic State. And the whole moon of liberal thought, instead of rising higher and higher in the sky as Kurds in Turkey confidently expected, calmly set, and the useless dark of regional night fell flat again. Then the reverse, as one might say or rather one would mean even the limped democracy of Turkey has been closing in the twilight of mental dawn. Mr. Halo must have confessed to never having experienced, and that goes to his hopeful plans of a new, rather contemporary life, he meant that he could not bring himself to declare that he experienced the same bitter events before... The Halo family after sweeping the dust of suicide bomb attack of July 2015 in Urfa-The land of Abraham, passed by that subject and entering upon another, They felt it was their duty to say that there were no, never, light in Turkey's Kurdistan, never really light. The light was there in The Europe-out part of all Muslims' heart where one could find bread, peace, humanly discipline and freedom that could make the air of love sparkling: love for all music from Arabesque by Tchaikovsky to Bach, the granite walls of ancient Greeks' sanctuaries to the silky Mosques of ancient Medina. The secret Soviet of Turkey had been glittering not through genuine crystals its cheap mica, and the light offered by its scientists has been against the light of civilisation, but it did come through the windows of the Europe and swindled The European Intellectual. So that there all confusion has been reigning between the relationship of NATO and Turkey, One ought to say in that subject that when The Republic of Turkey has banned the Arabesque music composed by the European musicians secret Soviet's fraudulent forces concealed the bitter reality from the eyes or ears of the Europeans. Some of the Jewish, Greek or Armenian composers too were convinced for example that at the modernist Turkish Soviet intellectuals wouldn't put up with the darkness of Arabesque Music and yet should like the bright melodies through Classical Western type sound till they were all expelled from Istanbul for they were not Muslim. Who made them to flee Istanbul? Of course the same second Soviet that banned some famous composers like ORHAN KENCEBAY to sing in the state radio or TV studios for they were liking ancient Egypt or India seeing them just as the founding fathers of Human Civilisation alongside with the Greeks before The Christ. The secret Soviet's cradle was the same as that of Saddam Hussein, and that cradle was similar to those of Mao, Stalin etc brought by means of the dirty lullabies whereof musical notes the Secret Soviet of Turkey would prefer to listen to... The music penalties-compelling ORHAN KENCEBAY-to die of faim or flee Turkey have been rendered by secret Turkish Soviet State's modern directors-what directors, huh?- under the umbrella of KEMALISM and westernization. All modernist whores had been carried to the most important posts in Turkey. They were telling to Turkey that Turkey had had to back even to award prostitution everywhere and to ban Arabesque Music for the sake of being admitted to the European Community. Turkish Ayatollah F. GULEN opposed to appreciate whores but vouched fervently the condemnation Arab Music within the which European admittedly would not be saying "Turkey is not a modern country. As for the queer caliph-president T. ERDOGAN he tried and created the modern and Muslim intellectuals of AK Party did much, but one needed say no more. Smashing musical freedom did not that amount to simply "Banning Arabesque Music" and yet the fake modernist women of the secret Soviet-KEMALIST-State has been lying that being a real modern female or intellectual female in gender needed only to exhibit the boobs, genital area hairs, and nibbles in the Europe. Whereas in the Europe the women were tasting endless freedom in dressing a la mode but they were not the simplest consumer of fashion solely but they were the creators of the fashion and dressing freedom alongside with men, and that there was never any penalty for different music styles, never... All colours of intellectual masks in Turkey were to prove that there could be exist no real intellectual in the places occupied by KEMALIST-fake modernist apes, the jackals of T. ERDOGAN or the hyenas of F. GULEN except in so far as the kind of blue & white incandescence of stateless intellectuals like the author-SOLZHENITSOF if it may be called a colour? Yes, no doubt one may speak of the same colour shared by France, Russian Federation, and the USA personally none might have any objection. One was going to say according to the music banning plague, but no, it does not always seem to depend on the freedom at all. Instead of The Turkish Secret Soviet State's misinformation Turkey's Pro NATO Kurdish and Turkish Muslims would be very much colourful in American Flag strips tones they even sometimes would be feeling that they emit the colours of American Dream, in the same way as the chrysanthemums in a navy blue vase for example. And my night is not the sky's. Naturally black is black the whole world over. But how couldn't the population of Pro NAT Kurdish and Turkish Muslims-at least 2/3 of the whole population-have estimated by NATO? The Pro-NATO Kurdish and Turkish Muslims making the greatest majority of all voters had been used to vote in for the fraudulent names they had surmised as liberal ones and that had beguiled by Turkish Soviet State over the names of false liberal leaders like ERDOGAN or fake friend of The USA-F. GULEN. The great world of Pro-NATO Turkish and Kurdish Muslims ought to be visited one by one by the intellectuals of the East and West Europe for they had got no organisation, no gazette-except The NATO Gazette* that could be in GOOGLE- and no formal port opening to the liberal world and yet a sort of apertures of which the luminaries that could be sometimes seen shining afar... And how is it their hermetic world where Mr. Halo too-instead of being a Pro NATO Kurd- found full of toils to make him bowed beneath its burden never could have shed its light on the face of the readers reading these huge astonishment induced information in English? In a word there seemed to him the light of the outer world, of those who knew the clouds, the sun and moon of the civilisation emerged since the very time his ancestors had got acquaintance with. He used to plunge below the surface of European TV stations, and rely on the truth: The Europe had been representing first love before the science and arts thereby the heart would have got the upper-hand while chasing brain!

    http://nato-2013.freeforums.net/board/1/general-board


    Who know that the evil of the sun-stopping the thought power of the brain always to be expected but if the country had been ancient Egypt sooner or later the shiny silliness always pass away, and that of The Halo Family. But theirs' too had its alternations, they wouldn't not deny it, its fruitful dusks and scorching beams of that disc of evil in the sky of Mankind's Instinct Love for science and arts or rather arts and science, even first the skill of artisans then the others, but that was not what Mr. Halo should say, for he too must have lived silliness, once, out there, and here ought to be the recovering from that. And when he examined the official ceiling and walls monitored to it he might see there could always be possibility of making light, that of the sun reflected or artificial light but someone would have to give Kurds a sedative shadow, or an anti torch shown in the ministry symbol of national education. "Now come and think again" should he called every soul, " Nationality and Education side by side, huh?" He knew, and Mrs Halo didn't know if the air there was of the kind that might lend itself to the comedy of spending time while teaching of regaining it. Khali, looked for a match in his experiments after having listened to the complaining of his father, and see if he should burn all the licences closed in the luxury drawers of the house. Mr. Halo's laughter too, fortissimo, piano, allegro, adagio, allegro again before ceasing for whole chat... After all a natural silence of course too much loud in Kurdistan! Then that silence of which, they having not known how they could catch on, they should merely say that there would nothing, how should merely say. It came to the meaning that nothing available positively in their daily chat chains nor negatively about that meaningless procedure. Hey, hey anybody at the home? Think human, think! What procedure? Could it be the right word there wherein the cries of victims were to be the base or main subject of those bundles of chattering. Then what. Not softly luxurious arm chairs, beds and the like to lie, to sombre for beginning-their exuberant feelings, to regain throbbing again. One might say it was all in the common head of the Halo family, or rather of all Kurds. And indeed sometimes it would seem to them they were not existing and yet having been felt in a head-The Head of Secret Soviet and that those hills, mountains and abysses of Turkey's Kurdistan, no, that enclosing them the solid bones of officially murdered people. But thence to conclude the head had not been their head what kind of sanguine induced circulation could be existing still for they still might ask the same question of vascular system. The head- no matter that of others' or theirs' must have reconsidered it so, and when all went still no head ought to be in need of beating against the wall, need it?In his full experienced life speculations Mr. Halo had kept off constantly from emphasizing racism through the narratives of his about his political views as an mature man as all mature people would do all over the world, and confined to his projects regarding to enhance his richness having made him a real dollar millionaire... Rather than portraying daily speculative subjects as an idyllic and sensual experience, however, Mr. Halo-The Kurdish ranch based capitalist use of racism to condemn it within his non-blatantly or rather non-unsentimental considerations. By rejecting all Anti-NATO visions of security and replacing them with liberal, humanist, rational patriotism, and overwhelmingly realistic anti-terror depictions, Mr. Halo would reveal the perversions and inadequacies of the condition of The Middle East under the threat of Islamic Terror.Specifically, through his use of liberal thought, free belief, and realism, Mr. Halo illustrated the chronic disease of half of the world: the feminine desperation, masculine domination especially in Islamic Countries, and familial dysfunction, and loneliness that occur within people's lives based on the European Culture. Furthermore The secret Soviet was continuing to make fun of the hopelessness of females and the abusive authority of men in Turkish TV serials. Mr Halo has Introduced by means of home chat classics as "the bad and yet powerful man, the good yet weak woman and the children bought up through endless mental confusion. The Halo family initially appeared as normal while sustaining its, err ,non-isolated, socially structured to foster and nurture both the its members within it, and the poor children within its neighbourhood. However, the secret Soviet State's approach concerning the similar family rejects traditional but open to modernism, and the familial roles were revealing the dark and sinister aspects of a well hidden life identified with that of North Korea.Mr. Halo, married to one of his uncle's youngest daughter who he described as being open hearted, free thought, good believer and in a position not to do as anybody-neither her dad or husband-pleased," possessing a sense of a slightly opposition against any dominance that could destroy the most dear points in the realm of sexuality As Mr. Halo described, "even his young wife hadn't been ready to abandon her fancies, obsessions etc. Sexuality and Its complementary role in marriage by means of her cute personality hadn't been exaggerated in the Halo family, that trump card of young wives.What Mrs. Halo knew that she would do better if she take care of Mr. Halo without disturbing him if she could be able to do it. For at the least show of indifference by Mrs. Halo on purpose
    Mr. Halo would run to the bedroom and would not come back till dawn with the same smile he used to exhibit on wakening might be beetle and beat her until his wife and son came round to a better way of thinking and share the same smile with him.The sexual relations between Mr. and Mrs. Halo couldn't lack any humanly sense or sensation, affection or tenderness, and progressed the by means of ancient civilisation without harshness, violence, and cold nature of any side. No disharmony would be in their common sensitiveness nor sexual misdemeanour from the side of any spouse. Mr. Halo also In response to the physical, sexual, and emotional happiness Mrs. Halo had created in their family would like to immerses himself in his domestic duties while Mrs. Lambert feeding the Halo's household with love that could be described within the religious terms only, suggesting endless caressing beyond sexuality, beyond being fond of her son.In times of excessive happiness in the family, Mr. Halo would keep a joyful rhythm with his fingers on one of the luxury the tables and if Mrs Halo shouldn't allow his fingers he would try it with his big feet in white wool socks to keep his feet warm against the cold touching of his slippers or to get rid of the undesirable effects of tepid temperature to be availing even in summer nights sinuously... However, the manner in which Khali too might respond giggling over the oddobjects in their daily life. Whereas the secret Soviet State would be going on with an impotently protecting one, mirroring its own desperation, lonely wild and barbarous frigidity in the case of flowery tunes namely Arabesque and was to be assumed as something emotionally dead. Every member of the Halo Family's mind was under the oppression of formless giant-The Official Blood Drinker namely the secret Soviet and yet as the other Kurds they were very keen while questioning, "Why all Kurdish ladies as Mrs. Halo was trapped and forced to weep for the victims-their own people who had been slaughtering for a century instead of the domestic works peacefully, happily, smiling? They would be working in peace and yet it was ordered otherwise by the puppet government not depending on the polls but, the hell, on secret Soviet and the cabinet also was unable to escape The Secret Soviet State's abuse or the day-to-day monotony of mourning for the Kurdish Youth who were regularly killed officially.

    24th July 2015 The Turkey's secret Soviet States war planes began to bomb the Northern Iraq-Iraqi Kurdistan. Because of their new catastrophic situation making them dismayed and hopeless again apathy was on air. apathy for everything or rather both towards fast and eating, sexual life between Mr. Halo and Mrs Halo, apathy against their son's libido induced fan club e-mailing with his girl friend and caressing a limpid lamb or leaving it the predicament and so on. Mrs. Halo, Mr. Halo failed to function as both a spiritual being to their family and the parents of Khali to him, if that illustration could be sufficient to define the inadequacy of their existence as humans, say, as Kurds. In addition to inability to reveal their fears and failures or even any successful deed of theirs as being humans and trying to do good things instead of the unnamed war between the secret Soviet State and Kurds in south-eastern Anatolia. Eventually and routinely they were carrying on with utilizing every chance to help the Kurdish families whose children were being murdered or wounded officially still expelling cynicism in their works to help the others that could be described-regretfully-any kind of the agony devoted to existence, a method that is apparent within the deeds of innocent Kurds-one of the most ancient people of The Mideast!Birth and the death that has guided them in that unnamed war The Halo Family has leant that the greatest enemy of their household couldn't be a medically problem induced birth or any sort of death but not being able to live humanly or animally or even living as plants... The death just after birth could provide any existing body with a life story and it too ought to be the story of a baby or kitten or at least anything to blossom effectively. The deliverance with pain or with joy must need to call a metaphor to mind that the best coming could be expressed to the everybody.Suffering, enjoyment, pain or aching were all aimless in the lands occupied by Turkey's Secret Soviet of which aim was futile, and ridicule for it was after ethnic cleansing: to eradicate the ancient mountain civilisation Kurdish shepherds or Kurdish cowboys. Yes, the secret Soviet after doing away with the Armenian has dealing with Kurdish ethnic cleansing. The bomb raining of Turkish war jets were both pompous and grotesque not able to reach the secret Soviet's ignoble, last goal. Impaired morality with its rarely or rather occasionally eliciting unhappy could result only of damaging peace in the Middle East. The secret Soviet wasn't afraid of The USA but our great, beloved Russia that has got down two Turkish secret Soviet jets recently. That secrecy was coming to the meaning of incessant betrayal. Turkish secret Soviet is grandly adapt at betraying NATO and beguiling The USA: beguiling, cheating. swindling over Jihadist Caliph's cabinet and offering fraud induced Ayatollah in Pennsylvania as only real solution to enable Americans escape from selling down the river.By portraying The secret Soviet's ethnic cleansing phenomenon as the catalyst of a gang type state's betrayal art, the misery of its people and from the most pat of the view Kurd's embracing death as the only release from life's pain, The secret Soviet undoubtedly was eradicating platonic love and romanticism for it had been marketing sexuality especially over state's TV stations using not only the canals assigned for popular programme but those aiming at the production of morality, Islamic belief, and ethic programmes to exhibit the exposition of human inadequacies, and to help astray people to be preached adequately. Essentially how much harshly as one could try one couldn't make the depiction of real toil of The Halo Family. If any human condition might carry the breeze afar, even the nearest cyclones challenging with crashing roar wouldn't be able to elicit melancholy. The scene, described here was as a hideous parody of suffocation," for The secret Soviet State's Jets burned up the lungs of Kurdish mountains namely the forests of which aesthetic peculiarities hardly could be given in an acutely detailed narration...In the end of that episode however, it stresses the absurd isolation of all humans concerning the horror in the occupied soil of innocent Kurds. Because Mrs. Halo's humour was ironic, eve, sardonic. It might be it was tending toward masochism it might be tend to focus on survival rather than having got healthy human functions... Therefore, if Turkish secret Soviet's gendarmerie could be still raping Kurdish ladies freely and full of ostentatious while covering the head light of pseudo humanist, fake modernist A.DOGAN Gangs Gazette-HURRIYET. Usually among veterans o the relatives of liberal martyrs, as further proof of the Kurdish mind's disgust with oppressors-the sworn enemy of liberty. Though Turkish secret Soviet's governors should mock aspects of the human in awfully bad conditions in Kurdistan, and their ignoble approach wouldn't exhibit at least immoral acknowledges social sciences, aesthetics, ethics might concerns. That comedy, however, was "the satire of the mankind who tries to bear his own society, evoking ideas of hopelessness, feeling nothingness in the world of humans, and contempt wearing their souls for a century. Both bitter drawn in jests and exhibition of pouting, Mr. mourning style utilize the silhouette of the doomsday as defined in holly books in the marked made commanders of the Soviet Security Forces to ridicule him-that natural human lamenting after the Kurdish lads murdered officially that very day-and one of them warned Mr. Halo that lamentation over the victims killed by the state had been prohibited before a century and that law of lamentation is still in power and powerful enough to break Mr. Halo's tongue; however, the sexual harassment disturbing Kurdish girls was not open to be punished at all! Traditional jest could not use flirtation to reveal humanity's flaws, but the situation from which Kurds were ultimately suffering that there were not redeemable abominable qualities that lived within the experiences caused by the forces occupying Kurdistan, and by that occupation the secret Soviet carried only misery and wretchedness of each Kurd's life, ignoring humans' collective concerns. On the contrary of they have been suggesting a segregated, lonely, and vacuous existence of Kurds. Mr. Halo remarked while watching his weeping neighbours, suggesting that the relations between the victims' families and their neighbours might indeed have positive qualities absent in the justice of real liberal and modern countries as Kuwait that had been victimized by the deep friend of secret Soviet State of Turkey-Saddam Hussein and the same Kuwait has found good Saudi Arabia at the very side of victimized Kuwaitis. Even the language the liberal and modern countries as the friends of The Europeans like Saudis or Israelis used to describe the act of torture to defend themselves but the secret Soviet in Turkey used to do it in a style characteristically wild and ugly!"But the night for the rebel must be warmer then the hell," ordered the secret Soviet , "for all of a sudden the war curtain must lifts on a flare of blood based colour, turning its reflux changing pale crimson and white of flesh, then pink that must come from a part of body." When Mr. Halo finally figured out that the people living in a occupied country might describe their own land as a huge slaughter-house. Yes, the occupant and the occupied ought not loving each other, linking affection to humanist activity. It couldn't be evaluated as the symbiotic life never as the neighbours' solidarity nor social coercion.

    None knew when the aggression of the secret Soviet's air raids would comes to an end, and Mrs Halo expressed her wishful thought in the same way longing for their experience, reiterating, "Take off and hit, take off and hit" as if it has had to come to an end. The warmth of blood was at the same time the one and only thing that could freeze the people's blood. Kurds had been existing in those mountains without the particular warplanes' power description should provide a sense of optimism for innocent humans' life under the oppression of dictators like Saddam was lacking total melancholy throughout the major depression socially elicited. However, Mrs. Halo's initial inability to understand what the dictators were doing to the people occupied by their vague armies It might be hypothesizing that their bombs were to create flares in an attempt to keep warm the poor people especially in winter-no matter whether it would rendered in the nights of summer or winter-and the attacks on civil inhabitants of the region should only present them something with both the pleasant and painful realization that while happiness within the human condition is possible, it is not likely. The war-time realism of Mrs. Halo ultimately forced Khali-her son to flare up his romanticized images that have a psycho-social tendency to mask and gloss over social problems...Though Mrs. Halo's use of war induced romanticism was undoubtedly non-cynical, it could exhibit human inadequacies before his son allowing for a greater awareness of dysfunctions and problems within the situation of Kurds. By not embracing dryly humanist facades during instead utilizing philanthropy that could expose flaws and imperfections, during bitter times to reveal what it is to be human! Mrs. Halo would carry on with specific speculations of war using the very phrases like "gathering, throttling, and breaking till even the faintest voices couldn't be heard," or "whence a people suppose the faint sound ought not be underestimated for sometimes aerial surf or atmospheric gas frictions might be the precursor of one's last silence. Or else it would be the sudden storm, analogous to those occasionally ruining the coasts of America, carrying to roof of garages upon the cars, rationally where there should be placed on and drowning the cries of the drivers who would be rebelling against that right work of the nature. An a few words of the dying who might face the nature which had been loved by the them who were dying of the nature, so that in natural innocence one might say should be seen as something out of innocence when its lovers were deceasing because of its awful unjust power escorting its unjust tenderness while having permitted to dictators to survive, whereas in reality their cruelty more subversive than that of hurricanes have must needed to cease. And yet it would be difficult to decide if hurricanes' deeds should be accepted as reasonable things or not... Mrs. Halo dragged towards the vacuum created by the official murders slaughtering Kurdish Youth systematically might have been the reason of her abrupt philosophical hyperactivity, huh? One might ask then, if one closed one's eyes, having closed them really, as the man in the street could not, but as one could, for there are limits to Mrs. Halo's impotence in philosophical speculations that she tossed like a straw by the swirling eddies to that way of thought she wasn't familiar with, and she used not to be in it. Fortunately it is not so much an affair of as hard as closing eyelids, but as it were the Mrs. Halo's capacity in plunging into the depths of thought at times that should be veiled for the time being, and that could be denied in wisely. Essentially trying to be seen too much vigilant, and vaguely anxious as it should be in every case of dealing profoundly with philosophy should be appreciated first then stopped, Turning in her routine works as the ancestors of The Homo Sapiens backed to their caves in every evening... And yet what should to do in the night without chat, for the sake of rhyme without any cat? Ah yes, she had her little pastimes to ruminate at the very most!Instead the alternatives were at the side of Mrs. Halo, form the point of Mr. Halo's situation only some vague misfortunes were available whereof both the outcomes of those might end bed or good. For instance the most abominable news paper-for just at the right side of its highlights it went on with crying impudently that Turkey should belong to Turks-of A. DOGAN backed by his German-magnate-business friends must have slipped from his hand, and he found it useless to pick up it from the floor to continue reading its anti-human, baseless news and articles. He could only just succeeded in recovering it after sixty seconds of very bad and intermittently tried efforts. What his will lacked was a little grapping skill that has been given to ant eaters to be used both diurnally and nocturnal. and he were not a tapir in order to handle in the daylight. He should really try and to lose his whole trust in the case of Turkish Jets night attacks on civilians especially in the night. The British Government qualified the Turkish Secret Soviet's air raids as madness but from the point of Mr. Halo it's a peril beyond anything crazy or mad or whatever one would call in accordance with least humanity. 27th July 2015. How long this Monday would have seemed in retrospect. The night of Sunday the air raids have continued to hit civilians then the relatives of the victims wrote a lot of letters to The EU but without knowing what EU was that EU. Then they were over at Kurd's new place for a moment if that new place was really new? There has been the instant question: what the victims’ parents were gathering, sat next to where…In bed for many seconds only seconds and jumping out of the quilt sorrow after sorrow. No letter, not here, not in the offices of The EU! The EU officers or rather officials would have mailed a letter to them-The Kurds!Mrs. Halo might be more cheerful than her spouse, his son Khali also might be more cheerful. And yet they have spent two unforgettable war nights that have been spoilt by the secret Soviet air raids of which nothing will ever be known within the circles of The EU, it is too late now, or still too soon that The Halo Family could not estimate anything related to it. It was something which was too hard as a problem to be solved except that they had got the solution without knowing that they had and the conclusion as being about the whole sorry business while they argued the solution they meant the salvation since that was what they were called then and of the other, for the rest is no business of Kurdish lands occupied by their sworn enemy. Although it might be unutterable, like the calling a goal back instead it had might been carved on the scoreboard already-of course lacking the absolute stability viz. having been open to be diminishing together as new score would appear in ratio, if that shouldn't mean anything, and leaving behind the words a chaos one should cope with unsteady situation and reach to the blessedness of existence. While those assumptions were going on Kurds were struggling to take their children under the protection there within some ten thousand years old caves.Khali's P.C. It was the newest planet-discovered most recently-whereof the atmosphere and water could be sufficing to meet humans needs still green and blue-no doubt-having been observed, with oceans, moors, rivers, and hills pointed at by NASA induced publications covering more place than newspapers. When their information sources went quite blunt Khali's P.C would show them the way for breathing fresh air, and fostering common hopes because little by little they were dwindling, inevitably, and as if the day was fast approaching when nothing would remain on behalf of the peace but war fragments scads to be bridled. So if Khali wrote as speedily as he could it wouldn't be hard to reach the newest news of the war between the secret Soviet in Turkey and the Pro-NATO Kurdish and Turkish Muslims, and would be able to observe traces of that war. But one should say that how hard the conditions of that war might be leading towards the peace and prosperity for Pro-NATO Turkish and Kurdish Muslims would be easy. Yes, one might not dare write down the results obtained from GOOGLE because of the ignoble prohibition Turkish Soviet State began to render in internet the last day. Ah yes, The Halo Family had their little pastimes full of big prohibitions imposed by the state. The strange thing they had not any P.C in the past, so they took a chartered trip to France-the leader of the word civilisation for centuries. So they have nothing to worry about the changing horizons and progressive cult of the future taking their important trip and the internet linked visiting on this score. And yet they did worry. Then while they were hunting for world news they made a curious discovery. The soil was being bleached the Turkish Soviet Air forces struck it several blows with 250 bombs and the hitting and sweeping of the air raids gave forth was at once bitter then caressing , too much fitting to destruction, distortion, and deforming in fact.






    TO BE CONTINUED....
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 07-28-2015 at 04:46 AM.

  7. #247
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    A PC MOMENT OF SOLZHENITSOF
    (New Romantic Russian Novel)
    PART II
    CHAPTER I
    (Continuing from the previos page)


    So it was not without some expiation that they inspected the other great problems needed to be havin got rid of, above and all about South-eastern Anatolia. And all this time the barrel bombs that were being used by both Syria and its neighbour viz. the secret Soviet that couldn't be being shared by Ayatollah GULEN and fake caliph ERDOGAN, still kept trickling away and they having said to themselves, peace was gone forever, meaning of course the 250 bombs vague in proper definition 250 in number or 250 kilos or even 250 tons. And Kurds saw that all these superficies, or should they define within the measures of infrastructure, not vertical but vertical, though they do not look particularly perpendicular from there namely from Turkey's Kurdistan to Iraqi Kurdistan or vice versa that went without saying, not visibly blanched since it was bleached from the point of the last examination of theirs, dating from they knew not when.As for The Halo Family-just at this point- they knew that knowing if their attitude against mental confusion could find expression in the contemporary world, it was easy to evoke what is traditionally called evolution in anti-revolutionary progress namely liberal thought. Could not it be said that even that pacifist evolution ineffectual? The answer would be simple: it was family dimension liberalism linked to that movement alone that 21 Millennium should be responsible for the enormously improved peace in the nearest vicinity of the home. The ideological empire viz. the culture of revolting to much peculiar for the part of the middle-east called Kurdistan must have turned liberal way of life on its tracks from the individuals to groups and the community and mended the greater part of the chaos of chronic wars. exception of our mortal remains and certain parts of the body which lose their natural color and from which the blood recedes in the long run. Does this mean there is more light here now, now that I know what is going on? No, I fear not, it is the same grey as heretofore, literally sparkling at times, then growing murky and dim, thickening is perhaps the word, until all things are blotted out except the window which seems in a manner of speaking to be my umbilicus, so that I say to myself, When it too goes out I shall know more or less where I am. No, all I mean is this, that when I open staring wide my eyes I see at the confines of this restless gloom a gleaming and shimmering as of bones, which was not hitherto the case, to the best of my knowledge. And I can even distinctly remember the paperhangings or wall-paper still clinging in places to the walls and covered with a writhing mass of roses, violets and other flowers in such profusion that it seemed to me I had never seen so many in the whole course of my life, nor of such beauty. But now they seem to be all gone, quite gone, and if there were no flowers on the ceiling there was no doubt something else, cupids perhaps, gone too, without leaving a trace. And while I was busy pursuing my pencil a moment came when my exercise-book, almost a child's, fell also to the ground. But it I very soon recovered, slipping the hook of my stick into one of the rents in the cover and hoisting it gently towards me. And during all this time, so fertile in incidents and mishaps, in my head I suppose all was streaming and emptying away as through a sluice, to my great joy, until finally nothing remained, either of Malone or of the other. And what is more I was able to follow without difficulty the various phases of this deliverance and felt no surprise at its irregular course, now rapid, now slow, so crystal clear was my understanding of the reasons why this could not be otherwise. And I rejoiced furthermore, quite apart from the spectacle, at the thought that I now knew what I had to do, I whose every move has always been a groping, and whose motionlessness too was a kind of groping, yes, I have greatly groped stockstill. And here again naturally I was utterly deceived, I mean in imagining I had grasped at last the true nature of my absurd tribulations, but not so utterly as to feel the need to reproach myself with it now. For even as I said, How easy and beautiful it all is!, in the same breath I said, All will grow dark again. And it is without excessive sorrow that I see us again as we are, namely to be removed grain by grain until the hand, wearied, begins to play, scooping us up and letting us trickle back into. It was the same dilemma petroleum like in colour and ellipsoid as heretofore, grinning literally at times, then growing fogy and dim, thickening with bubbles made by the most bad smelling gas emitting anaerobe bacteria-perhaps their work- until all things are blotted out except the microorganisms the presidium of Turkish Soviet's members thereof seemed in a manner of speaking to be ordinary people's farting so that they might say to themselves and governing the citizens assuming they had caught on the words-uttered as routine fart- of the presidium members or their puppets group rats-the cabinet.When its power too has been deleted The Secret Soviet should know more or less what it should to do. official terror. No, all one meant was that indeed that when one could open staring wide one' eyes one could see at the confines of that restless gloomy way of life which was not hitherto the case ceased, to the best of one' knowledge. And one could even distinctly remember the old incidents unlawful but official. In the past hanging Kurds or sending them to the natural gas cabins-the caves that Kurds used to be spending some nights still clinging as the most weird verdict of the human history in places to the dark corridors-their walls, and covered with a writhing as an internationally camouflaged in the best way the mankind had ever witnessed decorated with the miniatures of heathens' features who were assumingly appreciated as reflecting the martyrs' faces and other wild symbols in such profusion that it could have seemed to any baby from Slovakia or Scotland and made them to think that they had never seen so many killers in the whole course of their life, nor of such wilderness. After the aircrafts seemed to be all gone, quite gone, and if there were no '250 unit of what! bombs falling on the heads of civilian Kurds there was no doubt something else, all hope of peace perhaps, has gone too, without leaving a trace. And while the Halo Family was busy pursuing the news regarding peace and war they saw in a moment that war came again to give a chance for peace for without war there could be no chance for peace when the Halos' TV watching, almost a child's cell was to fall very frequently because of the truth that the parents of theirs were also to to find their mobiles at the ground. And yet looking at the active or-reactivated- cells' number in the world The Halos should understand they would have been very soon recovered. As for the victims killed by the secret friends of the official Islamic terrorists namely the dirt green administrators and the red commanders of Secret Soviet's , they were innocently slipping the hook of the traps monitored either by Ayatollah F. GULEN of ridiculous caliph of the new Ottoman-T. ERDOGAN hoisting their existence innocently towards it to be annihilated. And during all that bloody time in South-Eastern Anatolia, so evil from the point of dangerous incidents and mishaps wearing the existence of The Kurdish people, and in the head of the Halo Family members one might suppose all was streaming and emptying away as through a sluice, to one's great worry, until finally nothing remained, either of Kurds or of the Mankind. And what was more The Halo Family wasn't able to follow without difficulty the various phases of the cycles: war, war, peace for war, raising death toll of the Kurdish youngsters who the secret state The Turkish Soviet would never if they would be alive... The family and their neighbours felt no surprise at its irregular course but the acceleration of its, rapid, then no slow, no crystallized reason for getting speed, One should there remember the rule of the basic sciences taught at lyceum: Clarity should be fitting to the capacity of average Englishman like The Prime Minister of The UK who said on the day just before air raids of the secret Soviet against The Northern Iraq the that out of date Soviet's air raids might be qualified as madness seemingly his understanding too translate the principal rule of the reason, and called the secret Soviet to be reasonable if not merciful.... why this could not be otherwise.... And The Halo rejoiced furthermore instead of being put at the target by those weird air attacks that could be questioned instead of taking place quite apart from the spectacle, at the thought that they knew what they had to do for the household of the halo family whose every move has always been an impulse to draw the secret Soviet mad, and whose motionlessness too was a kind of mortal impulse to make the butchers to commit with official suicide and throttle their soldiers. Yes, the secret Soviet was open to be greatly groped! And there again naturally The Europeans were utterly deceived between 20th July 2015 and 29th July 2015, yes the news alone broadcasted in TV Channel 24 en FRANÇAIS meant the same statement without using its extra Blondie news programme producer's imagining The Kurd Youth had grasped already at last the true nature of the French Sweeties realist and too much beautiful tribulations. Khali's ultra discipline lover father Mr. Halo too was whistling to applaud that miraculous beauty. And Mrs. Halo has not given any innuendo so utterly as to feel the need to reproach him with it then. For even as all Kurds said, how easy and beautiful her news all was, in the same breath Mr. Halo too said, all would grow sparkling and clear again. And it was without excessive behaviours she should exert that even the idiots could see as Mr. Halo did it namely to be gulped grain by grain until the oesophagus wearied, and the vocal cords began to play "The Figaro's wedding", scooping the world up!

    29th July 2015...The Secret Soviet' air raids against Kurdish babies have been carrying on with the evil ethnic-cleansing. Eventually one's at the very same place, the uttering the same saying, and another saying. That should have been the genuine style not over saying the same thing nor another. For Khali knew it would be so, even as his dad said it was difficult to differ the last from the least! And one ought to say that to him neither at least and nor-for as long as one could remember-the last sensation that might not familiar with a folk-maybe blind and tired because of the particles that might be spread around form the 250-what unit-unit bombs and letting them trickle above the cradles, coffins, ambulances and the like... And sometimes, when all is quiet, the aircrafts would plunge in the centre of feelings while they were lying at their bed would up or up to the elbows in a panic, and prepare themselves to be seemed as though they were sleeping. Actually none could sleep under the threat of Islamic terror but put on an air imitating to sleep yet soon IS-Islamic State-terrorist in the neighbourhood of Turkey and yet in every corner of Turkey would stir, disturb, swear, open to or shut before wilderness, and if one was in need of another words: it would draw near to ravage, to avenge, to make the air easy for eliciting its failure to scatter Kurdistan with one hit. Did anybody understand indeed? One suspects "no" and "yes." But the Halos felt so many strange things that were important than everything that were to be understood , so many multi-base things clearly, that they should perhaps better left unsaid. To speak for example of the time of wartimes. When they left gas bombs, bunkers or liquid-admittedly liquid-and yet in need of being explained for the reason couldn't be known why they were liquid based instead of anything muddy one must have asked oneself: "Mud?" and added "what good would that do?" Or of the other gluey material when they would be throwing from the heavens to the earth on couldn't differ wet chocolate cake from mud while peeping through a hole-on the dark curtains-not bigger than the eye of a needle, one would be dangerously contracted? No, those wet bombs were like useful vermicular parasites that might not send one to grave. Then Mr. Halo who was speaking before awhile was not of a onlooker embedded in a remote corner of Kurdistan far from the studios of Channel 24 / FRANÇAIS but has been a platonic lover of that channel's lady speaker also. Her beautiful nose-her nose or anything made by a surgeon-ought to be respected then, pastimes, and in the future, and Mr. Halo thought about her own-no doubt her own-forehead similar to the sun to be hanging from the sky every midday in Kurdistan he had to say that he ought to content himself without her, having been devoid of catching and kissing her, huh?VANESSA BURGGRAF from French TV Channel was the name of love for Mr. Halo. Whereas he was too much unhappy and hopeless instead of his great love Lady Vanessa to whom he could reach through the screen. All in all launching forth on all those bombs were about life and the psychological war made by the secret Soviet agents of death, if that was what it is all about, and one might suppose it was, for nothing was ever about anything else to the best of war lost because of black propaganda. But what it is all about exactly one could no more say at that time than taking up one's quilt bed and taking a walk towards Vanessa. It's vague from the point of his wife if ,it would be tolerable to leave his husband kiss the hot snowy hands with full libido.Actually nothing could have gone clean out of Mr. Halo's head, his little depot allocated for private ideas. If the depot too were blown up by the secret Soviet's aircrafts? No matter, he just would had another. Perhaps it would be the same one back again...How and why? First why: on e ought to know that ideas are similar to each other or so much alike. The how: One could do it while getting to know them. Actually Lady BURGGRAF case made her lover degree fanatic Mr. Halo to think of both her incredibly beautiful face and the philosophy of The Mankind's adventure in the world and he called new viz. coming generations to be born without hesitation for that would be their debut of gaining both brain and heart cooperation to appreciate the beauty then, that is to say live long enough to get acquainted with coming teams of Lady BURGGRAF, then request the world to accept your thanks for the nice time because of the existence of incredibly nice faces, and hands, and very nice astonishments, and lovely lower extremities including hot snowy feet to be adored and go-after died- to the heaven willy-nilly. That had always been Mr. Halo's dream at bottom, all the things regarding to the beauty of some ultra-is that a word?-women that have always been his dream at bottom.There were so many frictions and rarely some ointments. Yes, that lady from Channel TV 24 was that soft and softening ointment with rose-bud fragrant an old child Mr. Halo was looking for her at every hours, it might be that's what a lot of old children like Mr. Halo were doing with silent roar and keen potent because their mothers had been done away with the bombs of the secret Soviet air-crafts mother, yes, they've rotted them, they should have dropped several Mr. Halos with the help of CACHEXIA not fitting to the high societies fed by beauty... That's all literature but perhaps Mr. Halo-instead of he had alt of money-hadn't been fed with such beauty of the Channel 24 FRANCAIS , and he would think that the stories of beauty his papa have told, clinging to the putrefied masks which had been real faces before, and yet having been swollen with tears.Mr. Halo-after falling love has seemingly got his legend at last. And yet there was questions: "Why was this sudden heat? Has anybody been born or died , anything happened, anything changed?" No doubt "Yes" and "No" would be the answer is. Essentially in the war-times none should never get born and therefore nor get dead, and a good job too. And if one should tell the truth yo Mr. Halo of that other who was his sweetheart, it was as always for want of love, well he'll be buggered because of Lady BURGGRAF, even if she wasn't expecting that and would cry "Why none can't stop him-Mr. Halo?"And yet it sometimes might seem to her she did also get born and had a life and met her darling and wandered with him in the uptown, and country side full of woods and wildernesses... Lady Beauty of Channel 24-FRANCAIS were smiling, laughing, listening to the visitors, and enjoying life whereas Mr. Halo was in tears before the isles and the traces of ships on the surface of his ocean, say his soul where blue moon that were to be watched 31st July 2015-this night in the northern part of our globe-lit the little brief turquoise lights of the victorious man and all night the great white and blue as in the banner of "Sons of Israel" colouring like beams shining in the caves where HOMO SAPIENS had been happy.How he would like to crouch on the on the soil of his heart in the layers of blue moon submitted to his love mode of rock-maybe rock 'n roll as knew by papa president Bush-the granite with the smell of dead suns and the clandestinely picked up anything that couldn't be picked up and the howling of the hurricane HALO making the waves to whip all Soviet type ships-that could be find only in the North Korea, Syria, and Turkey-towards me for having been crashed with my indignant teeth-only the canines for their indigence would be sufficient! The man in the street could see only the foam of the liquid-one ought to remember that at least 90% of humans body consisted of the liquid taught in the primary school as water. And yet it has had to have foams to some extent... "What's foam" asked Mr. Halo or sighing on the beach of his private ocean softly hitting his fists to each other as the dreary clowns should do to make the onlookers to laughing-not happily yet joyfully-instead he was not happy or joyful, never, but wishing to be one of them till it would ever end with the knock on the door of his home coming of morning or evening when postman should utter, "Come on, you'll soon be happy with the beauty of the lady fro Channel 24, let's make the most of it. And yet what matter whether he has fallen in love or not, he flied with his own enthusiasm till he believed that he was loving the beauty of Channel 24 FRANCAIS or not, he has been worshipping her or merely loving, he should go on doing as he had always done, not knowing what it was he did, nor who he was, nor where he was, nor if he was Mr. Halo. Yes, a little creature compared to that beauty, Mr. Halo should never tried and made a great beauty, to hold in his arms, she was really a big beauty. And beside seeing what a poor thing he was he understood that he like himself so he ought to learn to pray then he should be alone a long time, unhappy, having been reassured that his prayer should be changing every thing.

    A PC MOMENT OF SOLZHENITSOF
    (New Romantic Russian Novel)
    PART II
    CHAPTER II

    Khali has taken a long time to find his father matching to his acceptation or rather in the way of having been accepted by him and his mom again, but he have found him showing no change from he had fallen in the abyss of Channel 24 FRANÇAIS beauty. How did Khali know it was his father if he-his dad hadn't changed comparing to the period he has shown really a great change, Khali didn't know. All in all it ought to be scrutinized what could have changed with his non-changing after he backed... Life perhaps, the struggle to changing, to try, to learn, to redress of wrongs and yet to be having been a little changed. None could slip into oneself after being far from oneself for a time, even if it might be possible supposing that one has changed more or less, no matter, in the process of learning to come back to something thereof no least remnants of change could be observed but that as same as before changing: no trace of changing no micro debris, no least stratum but the same existence just as same as it tasted changing and not even wiping one's lips to do away with the last molecule left behind. Before Mr. Halo has enchanted by Madam Beauty Khali could find no alerting signs of what would be to him. He ran towards his doom down in the heart of a Kurdish rich man rather a sort of landlord, sitting on a bench and making surveillance over his farmhands al the weekdays and at the weekends. How Khali expect he was going to change over a TV programme-news interlocution-maker? The eyes of Mr. Halo could perhaps give a clue. No, Khali didn't know how he could know. Perhaps it was not he while being burnt my Madam Beauty of FRANÇAIS Channel 24. No matter, he was the Family's then, living flesh and soul showing no trace the exchange he just quit up living. Within the findings of that interesting event which is like a convalescence, if Khali's memories are his truly the excess feelings-as love or hatred- induced to the show people of mass media organs were strong but weakly depend on the sound or vision which couldn't save to let oneself to be saved, It's as daily doddering in the labyrinth of bureaucratic procedures of the gang like states so one couldn't help but to ask "What more do Mr. Halo want?" Arch! Once upon a time there were no mass-media broadcasting in the world. Those were the days, "early to bed and early to rise..." and well beguiled with the search for food or rather reasonably edible scraps, and a shadow of willows or warm corners in the winter, and it would be so till the end. But suddenly all begins on the earth to rage, and the people were lost in the wild forests of high civilisation-especially in The Soviet Union behind barbed wires even weird walls like Berlin's-and running behind ferns whirling everybody to run there. Then it would be hard to believe in those happy years when the cuisines were occasionally should introduce a safety heaven indulgent to baking-apples, say, Mr. Halo too was always a great man for baked apples. And there he was as happy as a king, his back to the throne made of baked apples, and cheese pies escorted by lamb stew with salad having been dressed by means of lemon, olive oil and dill. If he should know anything about the apple-less future he would be revolting. Nonetheless has had them a long time already! But most remarkable of all was his overcoat, in the sense that instead it should make him to exhibit a popular screen would covers him completely... For it is so well buttoned-buttons could be perceived as the tying symbols of the social life-yes buttoned from top to bottom that there might be no measure to be taken leaving one to know what was to be seen rather who went by inside. But for the absence of physical existence you might think he was bound to the earth, the posture was so stiff. So dearly loved father of Khali was a superman in other words, when he walked, or simply stood like a rock- fugitive and still-the tails of his coat literally swept the ground and rustle like a air-buss plane when taking up!And indeed some apparels could terminate the worry looking to penetrate into, like certain curtains. But if their threads might make only a big rag that might be only a piece of habiliment alongside with its other parts. But the people ought to take care of their collars so that they would be remained clean. Then as to the colour of the shirts of Mr. Halo's collar was too an important consideration, there was no good denying it's clues, all that could be said was that great love of his predominating to some extent. And it might safely be wagered that this finding, while fresh, could be of a fine plain proof what he felt before the beauty of Channel 24 FRANÇAIS. Colour! What Mr. Halo might call green must have been auspicious, for there used to be adorning the Mosques and something rattling in the streets useful for transportation of sheep. Halos and their neighbours called those little camions with green panels of a handsome green as "pick-up", they also must have seen them auspicious especially in the week of sacrifice festival-one week or so in a year-and even driven them to the far animal bazaars but perhaps they were wrong to call that colour green, and the most convenient term might be too much green near to blue that should be seen as too much green. Actually one should rather call it turquoise... An orange over coat might not match to any showman and yet green or blue was convenient to his chose. Why? For the if The Man's beloved lady could be convenient only to see, or to touch nor to kiss a colour between the violet or orange mixed with crimson a bit should dye his throne under the green and blue in order to cover the main surface under, and that rule would be being the way to auto-dye. Mr Halo began to call his car ROSINANTE to make room for the name of his deepest feeling he felt for VANESSA BURRGRAF of Channel 24-French! Colours were abundant around the Lady Burrgraf's empire of beauty, for that is indeed the impression she gave, that it covers the whole body of hers all over from her chest to forehead-as the news table wouldn't leave her milky boobs to be discerned from the regular distance, with the lovely exception obviously of the head which emerges, lofty and impassive, clear of her great embrace by means of the extraordinarily blue eyes. Yes, passion has marked her face, action too possibly, but it seemed to have ceased from her fans' adoration to her, augmented for the time being and reached to Turkey's Kurdistan. Who knows exactly the meaning of buttons and colours? Does anyone do? No never should be reply if that question is a real question nor with regard to the buttons and colours were not of any overcoat whereof they're not so much genuine buttons and colours because of the tones of the colours couldn't be defined the button-holes-over inordinate intervals-consequently torn. As for the shape of the buttons of Mr. Halo's overcoat little plates perhaps wouldn't be an exaggeration, for if some of the button induced apparel's sticks or pegs were in like plates or rather minimized saucer, still should have been more something more definable form. Then come on everybody: Mr. Halo might have concealed the traces of his love inside of his overcoat. Then with regard to the notion of connotation another question: how could an overcoat conceal the secrecies of a love when all that might be said is that it looks like wool, and its various unstitched parts and bulges in need of being to be ironed? Without a non-industrious brain's spasms and contortions reflected from that lazy-even daring to use that shameful word-yes lazy brain to the body namely over the mechanism of psycho-somatic...err...what notion actually as a word could subsist long after the fit of connotation past? So much for the Mr. Halo's overcoat, and his secret or totally deleted love wounds, say traces.

    Notion regarding to understanding. Essentially none could tell what one did not know. If one hasn't understood anything how one could tell it. Yes Mr. Halo's dear son Khali hadn't-from the end that episode concerning that Lady Beauty of Channel 24 and he himself too far from the story he tried and narrated as a story. About the Kurdish babies burnt by the jetty-built Caliph ERDOGAN mass media backed jet fighters and Ayatollah F. GULEN Gang's behaviour as turning the blind eye to it at that time. If one remember that crime had been reported from Iraqi Kurdistan and after some good days there elicited a rumour that Israelites did it in Palestine. Let the hats be put off and lowered-LES CHAPEAUS BAS-if the truth be said. Seemingly the secret Soviet in Turkey as hard as iron while defending itself instead of its anti-humanist crimes that superbly domed above its wild paramilitary crimes or those military ones the secret Soviet State has been used to commit with in the days of Coup D'état guttering the rim of its official murders history!War time must have limited both civilians and exploited some gunmen by a wide crack within the memory of The Human historically, and fallen into incapacity extending the past experiences to present times or from the behind to the front. Apparently who had intended probably to facilitate falling in faults in the way the introduction of a new ethnic cleansing . For over coat or love affair secrecies that have been in those periods much in common, that whereas the overcoat is too little to cover both the secrets truths of war and the unexplained statements of the folk.And were there nothing more to be said about the instructions how one lover of TV lady stars, the important thing would still remain unsaid, meaning of course the colour that might be used as its symbol of which all that was to be said there. Then come on and let's think about the symbols of instructions: white for sexual positions that Islamic terrorists would rather find them as the greatest sin, and the violet for the guides of teaching to read and feel the Mankind's masterpieces viz. the literature peaks of American writers as Tennessee Williams the strongest universe that should need no sun for heating of Frigidaire to preserve the daily dairies' productions. . Let's be consequently productive and let Khali and his Kurdish patriots be the new stars of liberalism full upon the Mideast alongside with Israelites and Gulf Arabs bringing upon it shimmers of the notion based on the verbs "to understand" and "to know" if they would prefer to be victims of new official terror of The Secret Soviet, and if they should deserve to be salvaged first "to know what's they don't know" and "to understand that they couldn't understand!" And it would not surprise liberal world to learn that they would have done it once... What was the scientific and artistic explanation of basics for Mr. Halo's falling in love with Vanessa BURGGRAF should be belong to a sporting Einstein, a superman in the library namely breeder of wars in peace or vice-versa. And if one then turned to consider the mystery of Mr. Halo's adoration to "Beauty" viz. Lady BURGGRAF , could no longer be separated from War and Peace but in relation to each other as Khali should very soon agreeably surprised to see how well they were assorted. And it would not surprise him to learn that they had been provided, one at the War Lord's, the other at the Peace Keeper's, perhaps at the same time!Now imagine in the same day such men exist as the same man, one could define the first Mr. Halo full of exuberant proofs that could remark that the handsome man's love was as rich as his purse in the midday and it would not be a pleasure not to find himself again in the presence of even the least trace of that situation regarding that strong thing he felt for Lady BURGGRAF . If that situation might be one of those immutable relations between two persons to be defined within harmoniously perishing terms and the effect of to watch an abrupt absence which should be commented that when weary to death one should almost resign even in the love affairs. Nevertheless one was going to say to the anti-scratch feature of the soul that couldn't be damaged positively-as the face of a compact disc-or negatively-as the face of a baby even open to be scratched by his or her hand-but one did not expect that everybody could see the connexion with Mr. Halo's case. But to pass on now to the apparels his overcoat has been a delicate subject to make quarrels on it. For Khali one couldn't call his father as stolid any more, and he even wondered how dad was able to conceal such a situation that might be growing over all kind attempt of camouflage more apparent till now. So then for, let's see, for Mr. Halo, that's not much better but there was no time to lose: Love and delete the paths going to Lady BRUGGRAF, for Mr. Halo might be standing still naked under that affair for all anyone would be any the wiser. The trouble was his hairs should not stir. Since that morning-all the more was it evening or night?- he has been here and then it is evening. The tags of his story, there black funnels which ought to be monitored where heat, flares or any the less inflammable material had had to be being striped with alerting yellow. Arch! Yellow, yes yellow! If the water music of Handel had been the cradle of colours-for one ought to back to colours if one should tell something about Mr. Halo or his overcoat- the mankind had got acquaintance with already the distant water-springs of the mountains at the sunset, their scarlet rather vermillion or rather roseate flames mixed with azure or indigo or rather navy actually blue-green intervals of lights quenched by the trembling pools' bitter yellow reflections spreading upon them bright shadows again. His back would have turned to the mad or rather crazy rivers perhaps having appeared to him within the dreadful cries of the crows that at the coming of late afternoon would assemble especially paroxysms of Moses the crow as some Kurdish children used to call one of them...Yes, both the colours and overcoats in the friendly yellow time before evening with its low hopeful opportunities, as if swooping about-is it the word?- the personal investment of which old people would be assumed devoid of while they were slumbering here and there. But Mr. Halo's face was towards the age of the old people that should throng the corners at this hour when their dried day and its dehydrated evening ended and a long juicy night before him. Then some of the doors to be opened before him and he might be seemed having got least entrance-even if he wasn't entirely trapped into any dead corners- and he should rescue each door -contingent and dubious- from The Secret Soviet's Jet Fighters.For an instant their bombs would cluster in the weird spectrum, huddled on the vast place clouds before the enemy of the civilisation-The Sun occupied. And even if those who know themselves condemned in the holocaust had seen the landscape under the bombs, should have begun to appreciate politely the heroism of the Kurdish babies , with same polite excuse, or without a word, that for all they knew they were not alone in the way of tortured and annihilated. And they should confess that The God would help everybody who would long, for once, the freedom must have been recovered to walk freely in the moors. Reaching to the end of a little way with a fellow citizen, no matter who would be, lest somebody might-of course with a merciful chance Mr. Halo would have stumbled on a stranger in the same plight-be assumed successful then. And they might take a few paces happily side by side, then part, each one should install the same the same story in their common memory and for having got that common thing changed from one side to the other perhaps changed it thoroughly. Why war instead of protecting the memoirs against distortion, Then there should be no reason for holding it commonly. At that time then humanist craving accounts for the majority of friendships. But those witnessed by Mr. Halo-were few compared to the solitaries pressing forward through the war conditions unless anything elicited to cause a feeble and yet perpetual obstruction in the case of putting an end to the warship and to access to the peace: that was that ought to be named as life covering war and peace together.

    Gradually handling other objects but the over-coat, buttons, and colours They might be places for riding, bowed over neck of one's horse and being propelled against the vacant winds that would make one ****s (excusez moi: sheet's) inside first vacant and secondly full of air like semi baloons beside the rider. But soon they should come back to the proper place of appointed in tailor's or at home or at some other place, beyond deserts, as the saying was, in a barren place, or the doorways under flood because of the most possible rain. And one to arrive had seldom long to wait, for all would hasten towards one another, knowing how short the time in the war times thereof all the things that lay heavy on the shoulders of the crowd carrying officially murdered people to bury with the conscience of speed and to do all the things they had to do together. So there they were for a few hours in safety under the air raids of the secret Soviet State. Drowsiness couldn't prevent Khali to keep his old memorandum book that used to be written on with ball pointed its pencils tending to sleep in the night silently even withot a yawning goodbye to the household. During the great wars time some even would take a cab to go to holiday more quickly or when the barrage of fire over backing to home where their comfortable bed was waiting for them-and yet was it waiting really?-one could see the last stage of the war play there could be mo difference between working or making holiday under the fire of jet fighters. It might be more reasonable to plough the field-not by means of modern intensive farm machines but horse praying that it shouldn't shamble. One, then, should spend most of its time standing still in an attitude of social depression, one's head hanging as low as the harness would permit, that was to count useless-if not harmful-stones in and around the harrow. But once in the motion it would transformed-momentarily of course-primitive farming, perhaps because of the memories that the most primitive instinct-warring, should revive, for the mere fact of running and pulling cannot give one more productivity as it was very much satisfaction, under such conditions.But when the alternatives-needed to be alternate because of the jet fighters' fire tilting up-would be announced that an extra fare should be taken on every field including those of farmers, or when on the contrary paying back should begin to exploit the accumulations, according as the payers were seated facing the way they were going or, what they were been being dragged perhaps even to be more restful... One might be content with any language's usage with one's back to peace, then one would rear one's head, and look almost content. And one might call a cab to back home or hotel or dormitory chatting with cabman too. In the dormitory a woman from Sweden would be alone on her wooden suitcase one meter long and a half in width-say, high from the floor-from the her knees covered with a linoleum cape-say, kind of trench-coat-as a colour rule originally azure, the same precisely which-as if-she have just snatched from the rump of her plough horse. That heroine from Sweden seemed furious and livid perhaps from want of volunteers fighting neck to neck with innocent Kurds against the Turkish Soviet's Jet Fighters, and the least gun, grenade or ammunition seemed to worry her to a frenzy. Overcoat, buttons, all tones of the colours, and plough-horse could be the most source of Halos' exasperated themes of chat with tears!A lot of humanist lads and very young ladies were fighting against The Turkish Soviet's occupation and oppression-wilder than that of hyenas-so as having been one of those heroes and heroines she was in Turkey's Kurdistan. So she launches his equipage blindly through the dark corridors of the dormitory she sojourned her mouth full of curses. But the sleeping people having named the officially accepted inhabitants of that place wanted not to go out of their beds to know who was making noise in the dormitory used to introduce sedentary times to the people abiding there...One who hadn't got acquaintance with the sense of helplessness shouldn't take anti-depression drugs during the war to act on the course of dispersing the events as the dark box that enclosed oneself or would abandon oneself to the pleasant feeling of being freed from all responsibility. In such times one should ponder on what lies one's secret Soviet State told one, or on what lies might be told before the war, saying, "Twill not be ever thus as ended a good thrash the Russians had been used to give the janissaries in the past!" Let's take a breath then everybody could catch on the meaning of breath that it's not the same breath as in the war time. But it was ever thus, for there were not too much-in scads-different kinds of breaths. And so the enemy-the secret Soviet State of Turkey namely the most amicable friend of Islamic State terrorists would hasten to cut-if not the throat-the breath of Kurdish babies, and the mules- after the killing of which Turkish Soviet would slander that they got with suicide as could be seen in GOOGLE-the plough horse, the farmer and the baker of the women in the condition that if the Kurdish women were carrying on with making bread, then would dragged the corpses towards the officially appointed place viz. the mass graves by the shortest route. If the procedure would be rendered-having been completed-to some extent more or less deviously, everything should be finished out of routine way because of the crowd so through the press of other misplaced persons. And each executer of The Secret Soviet would have his or her own reason, while wondering from time to time what those corpses were worth, and if they were the true ones...mules, babies, plough horses...Al reported there was going rather than somewhere else, and the mules couldn't commit with suicide as the Turkey's Secret Soviet claimed-plough horse hardly excepted to do it less scarcely than the men, though as a rule one couldn't know whereof they might going until they should commit with it. And not always even then as suggested it should be dark or at least dusk, then another suicide induced images to be observed through windows or semi-open gates of studs, and shop-windows mightn't be remarked there that light not up an instant but would flow as rivulets.

    Almost independent of the fashion the feature of people might paint their tableau, though that all depends on their creation instantly seen, felt, sensed, perceived, and their percept or concept envisaged. And for Khali, thank God, the tableaus created over some people's-say-face were still there within some impressive cinema productions or TV serials. For Khali the war was a true evening of certain life periods of his, an impressive gale howls along the gyrates of human's brain. As for his central nervous system it was like a queue bordered by high emotional walls or apertures , many of which were similar to warehouses. Or the actual war perhaps should be accepted as an fall day of the season standing-God forbid-near to the winter and those roaring jet fighters just were whirling in the air for the show, whence it is impossible to say, for here there were no bombs having been impending from them, were perhaps no longer the first of the year would carry a solution. Autumn wouldn't come barely green or blue, then were good for the colours, buttons, and overcoat of Mr. Halo all anti-rotting one by one or together. Then that men and beasts having plenty of shading places. They would not be disturbed by the sun-the enemy of thought namely the ancient idol of the idolaters, on the contrary, never war planes nor locusts and horse fly hordes to blacken where the heart would beat. For some obscure reason it was no doubt all the same to Mr. Halo whether it were spring or autumn, unless he should prefers peace to war never inversely, which could be nor improbable. But it must not be thought peace would come back, and stay always out of Kurdistan showing the same attitude forever: invent a pretext and kill a Kurd for Kurd had still the whole chance of survival before "Turkey's Secret Soviet" and then over that kind of incredible reason kill another Kurd to be forgiven.The war would begin when it was not very clear what was happening under the impressions of some people's feature and which couldn't seem to add very much to what had already been acquired or to shed any great light on the composition, but which no doubt had its usefulness. Mr. Halo would therefore rebel, whether he liked the Turkey's Secret Soviet or not, and he should proceed by other subjects to another subject in the cafe he used to visit at times unless he came back to home where he seemed to be snug enough, but he never knew, huh? For long hours under the assault of Turkey's Secret Soviet. Because in order not to die you ought come back to home and go out to see two different spectacular things the tableaus by the human faces and the sceneries; coming back and going out and yet occasionally one could find the chance of paintings from exhibitions introduced under the title of show programmes. Unless you happened to have someone who brought you spectacular worlds wherever you happen to be happy in the present time, would remember a happy past even if it wasn't so. Essentially how many hours, weeks, months, years, centuries, millenniums could the earth remain without exposing any hand or any kind of foot not stirred for the sake of war or peace, but what was a July 2015 when the secret Soviet of Turkey's jet fighters have bombed Kurdish babies to death not over dying but burning in the most young age before Mr. Halo as if the babies evaporated and fell as a drop into the ocean. Is it true that one knew nothing of peace and war but organized anyone both of them, flattered war or peace while giving a great respect to oneself or rather hanging by a chain like all mankind to the manual apparatus that could start them on the point. For there would be no certain point on the circle, no point in not knowing peace or war, either one knew all points either war or peace should begin or knew nothing, and Mr. Halo got angry with everyone who claimed he knew nothing. Actually he was concerned only with his ignorance of certain things including war and peace, of those that appalled him among others in the cafe where war and peace has been the fixed subject to talk about. But it was the worst point from the view of helpful point to understand starting war or substitute peace in it. For on the fifteenth day Turkey's Soviet war on Kurdish babies rise one should, and rise in fact one did, but with how much greater pains than if you had made up your mind to them the day before their debut, or better still some days before, okay? Actually why add to one's pains, and wouldn't be the worst argument, assuming one could add to them, and nothing would be less certain for God's sake?Howmanyth day, when the problem was to rise, the number of days did not matter anymore, all that matters was how to rise, for Halos were half out of their mind. And sometimes they could not get to their, and have to drag themselves rather than to walk. All the while some TV Stations would advise some vegetables to make on to run even if one couldn't walk.Using the bundles of tendrils and callings of the world to drag oneself forward or to the nearest cress oaf victory, where there were sometimes good things to learn, if not stale, and which are superior to the Turkey's Soviet pilots in that war, that one can crawl into somewhere and hide, as one was not one of those Soviet type jet fighter plots of ripe cannibalism for example, and in that also, that never frightened the Kurdish babies away, both withered after being burnt. For it was not as if Mr. Halo's son Khali possessed the means of accumulating the same considerations and feelings about buttons, colours, war, and over-coat simultaneously, one should not revolt in the case of over-coat for the weather in the last one third days of July 2015 and at the debut -from the point of succession- of August the weather was enough hot in the Turkey's Kurdistan to ignore any the coat chattering. As for food The secret Soviet State was lying about the inflation-over minimizing its awfully rising rate- and the poor Kurds were being pressed under the responsibility to keep their household alive for the last three weeks or a month!

    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 08-10-2015 at 04:37 PM.

  8. #248
    Registered User mesolzhenitsy's Avatar
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    A PC MOMENT OF SOLZHENITSOF
    (New Romantic Russian Novel)
    PART II
    CHAPTER II
    (Continuing from the previos page)




    And what were the symbols of life for example button, colour, war, plough horse, jet fighter, the suicide adept mules from Turkey's last war archive the compared to the whole existence of Turkey's Soviet. One could find of the enemy of humanity MAO-the cultural butcher's second childishness in Turkey and the Maoist Turks might be divided into two main groups, the secularist and the Islamist Maoists. But Mr. Halo's son Khali didn't possess the same gimmick with his dad-Mr. Halo one should mean, and could not employ them even if he could do for he felt himself far from political approaches, and he felt so far from the mortal bombs' roar that his unbiased situation shared by Kurdish babies was useless to save the innocents' life fro point of numerical view: The secrete Soviet state of Turkey has burn several babies in the months of July and August 2015. And perhaps there would be none to help the babies to make them survive somehow in the coming bombs of jet fighters, next morrow any more, for his fellow citizens-The Kurds apparently had waited so long for it in vain. And perhaps the jet fighters were to come back in an instant, to come to that stage of his instant when to live was to ponder the last of the living in the depths of an instant without bounds, where the light should change into a friendship mood and the wrecks in one's memo would look all alive. Dazzling white scarcely than bluish edges of the white clouds of the eye staring at everybody in the name of the sky even to stare into the space inside them, namely the fullness of the rich deep and its unchanging richness. For the time being Khali and his dad-Mr. Halo were rebuking in non-long intervals with the gentle suddenness induced sub consciousness flash that tightens, often without spending force, and closes on itself. Then WHO SAID THAT?....WHO SAID THAT VIZ: WHO SAID THAT MIGHT SAY THIS.... (WITHOUT QUESTION MARK)...or let's see the old lips all red and industrious that seem mumbling those-no matter this or that-,for there were colour of Kurdish babies' blood that had been shed by Turkish Secret Soviet trying to plug in the lachrymal canals of the weeping Kurdish mothers. And perhaps it would be then they see the sea horizons and the coast adjacent to it of the old dream, to feel the convulsions of the waves from shore to shore all stirring their tiny hearts for the had never see any sea before.None could feel peace or war was coming. How it might work, thanks to the very term scientifically first used by Monsieur Bergson , intuition, how would they be coming that one might feel their coming? both of them would come hazardously so that one should be wanted to be quite sure before one noted that it should have been coming or going or vice versa. And yet one ought to be scrupulous to the last that were to mean, some ones would be all over if one meant one was sure of feeling that some ones hour is at hand. For one's power of guess were to be the stories that would be all in vain, deep down one never doubted, even the days abounding in proof to the contrary converting war to peace and vice versa, that one was still hopeful otherwise and breathing in and out the air of earth instead of vacuum bombs that could consume even the oxygen in one's vein if not arteries... According to Halo Family under the thought leadership. at hand, there were-in six or seven-notions of ontology: colours that the flags need it-buttons in several colours, buttoned or unbuttoned over coats, and time. As for days they use time but time was more important than days, and in the language of the moment time could be nothing beyond itself. Mr. Halo used to say that "A marmalade tin could have been surviving from the birthday of MARMELADOV but his time of travail could not sag henceforth till now"! From when they taught Mr. Halo's son-Khali the most imaginary term viz. the time he marvelled at its being so baseless and clenched his fists laughing that there more naughty things beside his, and having not known how to tell the time's wonted existence as both relative or independent , and above all as the being the most imaginary thing-nothing. What more than that was he felt that nobody could have time to survive without time. The Turkey's Soviet would send its jet fighters to bomb one and one had to have some seconds to escape from ANGE DE LA MORT! Actually one could not crack a joke while talking on days, weeks, millenniums and the like for all of them would come to the meaning of something twice apt to be jeered as a laughing stock as the main thing-there-should be then, and not anything that might elapse but matching to be forgotten and on with the losing time might seem gaining it.From the other side neither gaining time nor wasting it might be good for the health. If the secret Soviet State-Turkey's Jet Fighters were firing the babies could be the smoke spreading their half burnt yet still smiling faces to the barbed wires circumscribing the Kurdish districts be salubrious for children or adults? And all Kurds-under the barrage of Turkish Soviet's bombardment- to do was go on as though invited to see the deepest hell of the doomsday. For one believed if one then reached what was called a second, one didn't know why the special security forces have beaten and even kicked a baby in the street for several-not seconds but-minutes, and gave a good thrash to the photo correspondents. (12th August 2015).

    http://www.ntv.com.tr/galeri/turkiye...7EyIvJqhwZDCMA

    What one might mean asking why the secret Soviet should believe that peace could be built upon torturing any Kurdish babies, hell, and what would they remember anything honest and good from the secret Soviet's history for the time being? One was, only, to remember increasing torture might turn into happiness of burnt babies, and plentiful remorse and penalty-holy or secular-from the side of living souls...Yes, one should believe that one have entered on the season of war or peace if one would like to be seen having increased ones power of "guess" and after that one might increase that mental power. But that sensation of progress in this way was hard to resist. All would spring from the furthest deeps, and notably not towards the brain nor heart, actually towards nowhere at last which even in the ordinary way should be so much further from one than all the rest, from, say, one's head or heart, for those were where one must have fled, and to call them in, to be cleaned for example, would one thought have taken one all over one's life, not too much exclusive of the war time required to render over tortured Kurdish babies. Strange? The burnt babies wouldn't feel their skin, their extremities feel nothing anymore because the destructed nerves could not carry any sense... It was a mercy of the Jesus Christ-as called by Kurds The Messiah/MESIH wasn't. And yet they feel they are beyond the range of the most powerful source of smiling-the dead Kurdish babies. Was that what was known as having got a window looking at the seventh heaven? And similarly for the Kurdish mothers whose babies were burnt in last thirty years. Was this situation a mere local problems thereafter one would not have noticed, having been nothing but a series or rather a significantly lot induced succession of local event all one's life, no matter with or without any result. But one's clavier to write in other latitudes and the air that breathed through the memo and turned them without my knowing, when one doze off, so that the subject falls far from the agenda and the land observed would turn into somewhere in the void, and was not the air of the last sanctuary , and a mercy it was. And perhaps on one's hands it was the shimmer of the shadows of leaves and flowers and the shadow of white holly clouds. The one's own impression might be meant the tube of TV set rather than the news, and in particular the ears themselves, by means of which one was to protect the virginity of a lady one had seduced already and yet a virgin's wit might come streaming and enlightening up one's my mental power, within a continuous flow, while it lasted, and whereupon it must have been dripping a saliva from time to time, otherwise one would be dead or genius, and none should not expect to see sexuality amongst the matter staring at looking long enough, in one's own eye!No idea? But that was not all and one's buttons, over-coat, its colours, peace and war and one's extremities were not the only parts to remark on, in their respective directions, far from it. For one's brain for example, which could hardly be accused of creating the debut of anything, if one's rectum suddenly started to create reverse actions for the time being, which God forbid, one might firmly believe that nothing would fall out from one's anus and that would not come to the meaning of constipation in neither in Turkey's Kurdistan nor in the Kurdistan of Syria for it ought to be commented as the measures taken by autonomous centres of neurologic system as having done in the hard times as war. And if one were to rest again, whereof God preserve everybody, one might fancy one would fill a considerable part of the latrine, not-of course-for lying down, but standing down more noticeably. For it was a thing everybody have often noticed by Turkey's Soviet-its relentless gendarmerie, the best way to be unnoticed would be to lie down flat and not move. And so there The household of Halo Family, who always thought they would shrivel and shrivel as Kurdish People should do, more and more, until in the end they could be almost buried in a vase. No matter? It was that what mattered that in spite of untold main story and the writings that were still to continue in "To be continued" form to fit in the place it could-respectively-cover. Nonetheless it was a procedure of filling a place showing any the less the least respect to the sense and thought of the reader some of whom might be the hero and the heroin, and let us call the place a room, that's all that would matter, and one need not worry, one could fit in it as long as needed somehow. And if one ever succeed in breathing one's last it could not be at the home but in the street, or in a briar devoid of one's own possessions, beside the lack of swearing the Turkey's Soviet-its gendarmeries or pilots that might be looking at the flickering life of the Kurdish People that sometimes looked as if it were painted by prehistoric painters on the walls of the caves, not like a real nation... Alas what some tourist they must have been only even remembered whistling bullets raining from machine guns! If only Halos could be sure, of Turkey's Soviet would like to make peace with Kurds Jews, Greeks, Armenians they should try and explain the meaning of war whereby none could find anything related to the very lovable notion of happiness to The Secret Soviet State's gendarmerie, jet fighter pilots, anti-humanist local administrators, and even politicians. And yet how often could they have seen the least probability swinging and hiding out through the doors of social construction made by blood, blood, blood that was shed through the most anaesthetically methods...Mr. Halo remembered that each time the ancestor of Turkey's Soviet-The Ottoman Empire banged the spine of the nations rebelling its cruelty, it lost its head in hazelnuts dimension for the pashas were all innumerate and illiterate people, and their vision was small, and the European-Russians, Anglo Saxons, Franks, Germans had should be carrying its putrefied body -without waiting too much-to the garbage of history before they started down the stairs the modern ages sterilized or rather rescued from the Bacterium Ottoman, for the whole of it to be out, in the Europe he meant...The barbaric state had to start turning before World War I, so as not to bang into the wall and yet its head banged against it, probably it was inevitable. And it did matter to its head, in the Balkans country some parts of that head has been crashed, but the Turkey's Soviet has been still carrying the intact quarter of that sick head in Turkey's Kurdistan, Eh secret Soviet easy! Instead of the humanist rule that it must have stop cruelty out of respect-self respect perhaps, for it didn't know Russia, yes it didn't know Russia, or for fear of hurting the rest of its head out of panic. So it hasn't chosen the reasonable panic before Russia it has chosen the simplest procedure: Fall and bang and try and feel it easy!

    Right way? Where was the exit to escape from the torture of Turkey's Second Soviet that still burning the Kurdish babies. Which door to rescue babies from the cradles set on fire, and door to get into East or West European stock's civilisation? The Kurds knew that there were no vacant place in Russia or in Germany to take refuge after fleeing their motherland-Kurdistan or South-eastern Anatolia. And yet the Turkish pseudo, ridiculous but dangerous Caliph T.ERDOGAN who has declared that the regime in Turkey had been changed thoroughly.(16th August 2015) He seemingly has got his IS (Islamic Terror) based private army-hiring around 10.000 professional IS militants in Anatolia-at last and ready to infection the air from Russia to Germany even America... From the other side Kurdish families should be too careful, a large family or a pair of turtle doves. Yes, the doomsday of Kurdish People in Anatolia was just to be given start, and Turkish Caliph T. ERDOGAN should use that chance too soon even the Turkish Ayatollah F. GULEN would not prefer to warn the well civilized countries of that most evil fate of the Kurds for those false enemy-brothers the caliph and the ayatollah were both Turkish nationalists and they might be equivalently eager to use Islamic Terror in all Christianity linked countries-the heathen countries as they would name behind the closed doors-so there ought not to be any delay in taking measures in order to protect Kurdish people henceforth, and that was what one should tell the Europeans. But first of all the world's intellectuals should ask themselves, besides so many things, what truth was lying there in all that non-babble manifestation of Turkish Caliph T. ERDOGAN? If they didn't know the lucid expression in such a statement that he simply believed that the regime in Turkey has been changed then everybody should learnt the true power that was able to change regime... If he would talk and confess that he didn't mean that the regime in Turkey has not been changed, it should not the same thing as denying it and it did matter from the point of getting information of the Turkish caliph's mental health. Yes, that's what the world would like about the Turkish caliph, at least one of the things, that one could say: Hands up the Turkish Secret Soviet Republic! Nevertheless another example could be given there for similar exclamations:, Hey sweetheart hands up! So such examples were open to be cried without having to wonder if one should not rather had cut one's tongue out for not daring to say something else besides those of the caliph. Turkish Caliph, ethnic cleansing to eradicate all Kurdish babies till their people couldn't survive...Yes, no reflection is needed, before or after, one might be only to tick away the link and see the main place the secret Soviet would do away with Kurds.
    http://www.taraf.com.tr/guncel-haber...tliam-korkusu/
    One's mouth for it to testify to the future story, the old story under the oppression of The Soviet in Turkey. Under the government of Stalin's intimate friends-fake secularist pseudo Turkish modernists history had silenced the gassed Kurdish babies, so that all were silent for a long time. And if one ever stop talking it silence would be surviving but the Kurds. Why the leftist, rightist, modernist, Islamist, fascist even aggressive hyenas of the Soviet in Turkey because there could nothing more to be practised on the Kurdish People whom the Soviet would assume the natural allies of peaceful Israel, even though all evil-Anti Semitic- slogans have been said against Jews yesterday.(17th August 2015 (YURT Daily) Tick and see the IS Islamic State terrorist preparing to assault Istanbul Jews-using the Jewish music as pretext in that chaotic medium!
    http://www.sozcu.com.tr/2015/gundem/...aldiri-911558/
    Though nothing has been said in the actuality liked photo within the link given above actually it could be seen that there might be any slaughter over gassing the new babies in Turkey Kurdistan the. But let Halo Family's household leave these morbid matters and get on with that of Kurdish people's hope demise, probably in two or three days if they guessed rightly. Then it will be all over with Mr. Halo, Mrs Halo, their son Khali, unless the hope went on beyond the grave. But sufficient unto the day, they observed first the evil method to be used in the very official term-Curfew, then they'd see how many the secret Soviet state killed, hitting them on the head with guns' butt or setting fire to them... Off-hand they could can think of babies, all unknowns, or rather they never knew. A sudden wish? Halo family had a sudden wish to see, as sometimes in the old days, the Kurdish lads murdered in their beds by secret Soviet's troops, commandos, Gendarmerie, any baby killed by official bayonets through a deep wound on the chest as a medal, no matter for what, something they could not have imagined. There were the old butchers too who forced Armenians, Greeks, and Jews to flee Istanbul in 6-7 September 1955. In the same city again they thought, there were IS Islamic State Terrorists having made last preparations to cut throats...With their razor, that would nonsense because all Islamic Terrorists were not barbers. It seemed to Kurds that they had got several skills beside being terrorist. Yes, what they needed then was a touch of the unimaginable death angel who would murder the heathens to bestow their different, say, arts to be fulfilled, and whose suit would be scarlet in colour, that would do the victims-to be throttled-good for that might well be the colour to save them to see the colour of their own blood before their last journey!Lo! Down the long familiar galleries of Turkey's Soviet Official Murder Tolls! Two young Kurdish workers have been slaughter at home with daggers used both by the butchers of T. ERDOGAN-the Turkish Caliph the secret agents of F.GULEN-Turkish Ayatollah, and ISIS Militants. The sun and moons that hung aloft would see-smiling-the Kurdish children pebbling them with the little, natural ammunition, namely the pebbles they kept in their worn out trousers pockets , and wept for them after Turkish Soviet's gendarmerie killed them for nothing at all. Then back here, to Mr. Halo, whatever that meant, and having no more left him, no more asking him for what Kurds haven't got. Or perhaps Cultural Affairs Butcher MAO came back, reuniting the false enemies viz. Turkish Caliph and Turkish Ayatollah. Then what has been done with parting The Anti Western Culture, done over using pins instead of nails, pranks on one another, back to the foul little den of all dirty rebels rebelling and attacking antibiotics, vaccination, surrealist painters, absurd drama and red crescent, huh? White and vaulted, as though hollowed out of ivory, an old congregation place used both by clerics and terrorists or vice versa. Would the European stock civilisation left alone or backed by Kurds alongside with Israelites and Egyptian lady singers like UMM KALTHUM who could hear the future clamouring and murders of Islamic Terror agents. Yes ISIS were not after her down the shadowy and romantic corridors of The Radio Cairo for all well civilized radio stations had been sterilized fro Islamic terror at that time. Might that settle that? What's that? Kurds have had just time, if they have calculated right or rather if they have calculated wrong so much the better, wouldn't ask nothing better than the friendship with Jews!Why? Because Israelites might only defend their babies as Kurds would do. And yet Turkey's Soviet had killed, officially, at least one hundred thousand Kurdish babies since the year 1920 besides nobody could have calculated anything to give the baby death tolls of AUGUST 2015. Numbers? One would be on the right way dealing with numbers after colours, over-coat, buttons. The one might ask anything either, just time to stop secret Soviet in Anatolia. And one could take a little turn, come back there and do all one had to do after one forgot what, ah yes, how one could count, and then something else, probably one forgot what with all the population was one ought to count, but the ability of counting would come back to one when the time came.

    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 08-19-2015 at 04:54 AM.

  9. #249
    Registered User mesolzhenitsy's Avatar
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    A PC MOMENT OF SOLZHENITSOF
    (New Romantic Russian Novel)
    PART II
    CHAPTER III



    Before Khali went to the streets flaring wildly under the fire of special forces of The Turkey's Soviet-secret state- should like to find a hole to hide in -in the walls fallen down on the ground- and from behind of which he could clearly watch the events going on, such extraordinary things, and often coloured with tears-if not blood-similar to mucus and reminding him of the allergic eyes, especially summer type conjunctivitis. He would not be in need of a light while the war smokes might make the world darkened before the night , and one speedy glimpse could drive him to some queer feelings that he could slip away under the bullets or little steel parts shot by grenades as happy as if he were embarking for Beverly Hills, decidedly when it was time for this to stop. After all that roaring sight-seeing was whatever he wanted it to be, up to a colourful point without his compromising himself. What might strike him to begin with was how much noisy it was than it had been, so that it-what for the God's sake, what?-should look like an aggrandised crocodile's eye-tepid, turbid- or a big porthole. No matter, provided there was something in the street. First he would see there should be an artefact night, which-no doubt- could not surprises him, to Halo's family household surprise so that he might suppose his probable reactions because he wanted not to be surprised, just once more. For in the room it was not night, he knew but there it was also never really night in the street. Al in all he wouldn't care what might say he had seen even if it were often darker than the time was then, whereas out there up in the sky it might be black night while the early civil war stars, just enough to show that the black night he saw was truly of the gunmen and not merely painted on the window-pane, for they trembled, like true stars... Khali would see only see the blood of Kurdish babies oozing from panes of neighbouring families and the blood should be genuine for they would not tremble if they were painted. And as if that were not enough to satisfy Khali it was the outer world, the inner world, the Kurdish World are suffering from the pain of ethnic cleansing, and if he were in the street suddenly the shop windows across the way would light up burning, or suddenly he should realize they were shuttered for he was one of those people who could take in everything at a single glance without looking long and fixedly. The parents of Khali-Mr. and Mrs Halo-would like to give up the morbidity and let the incidents to travel the long road that lies between catastrophes and happiness. And that indeed was a happy chance to be in the street-or rather imagining to do so-and it might augment the situational ingredients of "well to do", unless it be devised on purpose to make fun of historical events regarding to the Kurdish Families' future.Of Khali and the street... For he might have found nothing better to speed his observation from that place than the artificial darkness induced nocturnal atmosphere where the special forces of Turkey's Soviet happened to burn several babies in the special conditions of curfew in SILVAN-South Eastern Anatolia or rather Kurdistan, though it is full of tumult and violence. What he could do for the Kurdish babies might be nothing unless he had the whole night like afternoon before he to follow the fall of some babies like carcasses of frozen deep chickens. Of stroller... Yes of stroller... The MPs of HDP Kurdish Party have visited SILVAN recently and a photo was shown in some of the TV stations linked to their visit. The special security forces of Turkey's Soviet had burnt a baby who must have been buried before a while so only the stroller of that innocent, little Kurdish body was seeming in every colours that carry to mind only flames, only flames... Rising to another world the babies left the stroller behind reflecting all tones of gray and soiled yellow smoke and red, dazzling red fire related to being scorched to death or being burnt in flames! When, namely in the day of 19th August 2015-Khali was there as one of the eye witnesses of that impudent war crime. The people-if there were any daring to look around-could watch out for the bombs as the meteors, and Khali has not been able to look for the-after whole darkness-the night before he went back to home. And it didn't matter to The Kurdish Baby whether they have been permitted to survive or suddenly went to grave or even crippled by Turkish Soviet bayonets in the broad daylight, mid night, at the dawn and the like having been sentenced perhaps to be done with away in the half millennium years old ethnic cleansing planned to chop the Kurdish Newbie... Going to bed? Khali and went back to bed when the special security forces have finished chopping Kurdish siblings, and it is enough for him to see the slaughter. (20th August 2015 SILVAN)...Then what about the household of the Halo Family... The Halos...standing up against each other behind the curtain that was bright, so that it was dark in the day of the Turkey's Soviet in the street and light behind the curtains of the rooms of the Halo's house! Since one might say so, the dim and the din has been belonging to the secret Soviet there of the special security forces might cast only tumult and shadow as they had done for around a century or so . For they had done cleave the babies of Balkan countries or the various nations in the region so fast that the body parts of the babies should have seemed in an entity-single and unified body, and consequently reflecting a single shadow. But when the parts of slain babies fell down the soil they would scatter around. Trying to understand Khali's sense or sensation would be an attempt in vain for all of them were wrapped with the energy of despair, it was clear he had there many distinct and separate body parts of the Kurdish babies, each one enclosed within its own clotted blood, and having no need of each others before to be buried. They might be useful from the point of Turkey's Soviet in sustaining the flames in graveyard, for each was apt for it, independently of the other. There were no doubt that they were cold instead of they would be warmly rubbed against each other so friction maintained not heat there. And nothing could bring the parts of a baby's body together for they would back to their chaotic distances when the redactor had gone. It was all very pretty and strange to call a big complicated shapelessness an entity made up of more than one, for perhaps there were some of them would be older than a baby and too much younger than a little child. How that one swayed and tottered, how he was conspicuous but rather poor in his apparel's faded colours. But his night in the broad daylight must have been warm-remember that the date was 21st August 2015-, and a suddenly lifted curtain opened before Khali the awfully official murder on a flare of sharp vermin, then pale blush and entropy of flesh, then pink blood drops that must come from a garment and a victorious salutation too that Khali hasn't time to understand. So it was not cold where the little saluting hands, and victorious face of the little boy, standing so lightly outdoors or rather indoors when he was murdered by the special forces of Turkey's Soviet. Ah how stupid the out of date Turkish Soviet! Khali saw what it was...
    http://www.taraf.com.tr/guncel-haber...zel-tim-vurdu/
    That has done Kurdish People no good. Ws good the word? The special security forces of Turkey's Soviet would only see if the Kurds were still there, then would shoot the babies and children and go. They were right up against the house of the last little victim then. Was it possible they may have finished their bloody mission already? There was, besides, not any question if Turks and Kurds have loved each other standing, like non-allied victims. Soon they could be able to ally against the secret Soviet in Turkey. Yes, Turks and Kurds are pro NATO Muslims in Turkey. They were just having got each other Anti-Soviet victims as they were the Pro-NATO Muslims.As for the Turkey's Soviet it wasn't a gang state having been made of four cells: One: The would be modernist, fake secularist actually aggressive atheist ones to beguile The Europeans; Two. Famous murderer racists to kill all the Armenians, Greeks and Jews in Istanbul, and Kurds in The Sotheastern Anatolia; Three: Islamist Terror agents used in organizing IS or Al Qaeda like fundamentalist bandits, Four: The international swindlers like ridiculous caliph T. ERDOGAN or Ayatollah F. GULEN! Turkey's Soviet were to be in action incessantly: Wonderfully back and forth! The cells of the secret Soviet State seemed to be after chaos in The Mideast... Could Khali as a young Kurdish lad say the semi-baby boy "Enough observations for today, goodbye." Families of the slaughtered babies-caught by the rain of the tears of-ought not to be far from the shelter of Kurdish youth...Khali has stopped saying, "The people thus oppressed by Turkey's Soviet couldn't be surviving while the ground wouldn't remain dry because of mothers' tears, whereas they were standing up uniformly in mournful days. So he advised himself lie down, prostrate without hesitation, for every Kurd could just as easily have lain down supine and survive on purpose!" And yet he fancied that the siesta lying on the back right down could open his spinal column to trauma make his brain vulnerable than the belly and belt, realizing, any more than if he had been an old holding CEO, that all those parts of babies murdered by Turkey's Soviet were in entropy and even indispensably put apart from the complementary analogues, at least until death having been made scattered. Anymore to ponder upon many other compositions too might make people to think of decompositions of which he had no conception, and that a drop of blood out of ailment in victims' life span might lead to no gastric spasms lasting for years as when, having waded through an unhealthy feeding so that the babies might not merely die of state ordered gunfire and their legs none the worse for the wetting with their own blood, but if anything better, thanks perhaps to the action of the Islamic Terror that had informed the Europeans of ethnic cleansing targeting at Kurds.

    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 08-24-2015 at 04:19 AM.

  10. #250
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    A PC MOMENT OF SOLZHENITSOF
    (New Romantic Russian Novel)
    PART II
    CHAPTER III
    (Continuing from the previos page)



    It was a heavy, humidity condensed and permanent hot air in The South-eastern Anatolia or rather northern Kurdistan, which led Turkey's Soviet to suppose it's ethnic cleansing over all Kurds from newborn to octogenarian should be brief and abundantly bloody, as if there were a relation between state terror, violence, bloodshed and the victims' weeping duration. And that Kurds should not spring to their feet during the official murders which if it were possible to be rendered in five minutes or a quarter of a second. The front, no, the back of battle, decorated with vermin body liquids of the slaughtered Kurdish babies! The front was not right as a war term there for the front slaughter-house covering all South Eastern Anatolia or rather Kurdistan couldn't be discerned from doomsday because of dusty Turkish mass media. This was the kind of story that has been telling to Eastern and Western Europeans that ought to be remembered in all their life, reminding them of the Islamist Terror or IS militants would be ready to sweep the European Culture from Russia to Portugal to Ireland for the ISIS or Islamic Terror must have been waiting the time to attack The Europe after The Kurds have been done away with thoroughly. This cannot possibly last much longer. It could be sometime in Tomorrow's afternoon, not impossible to say more, for hours and hours past it had been the same scorching sun of Turkey's racist, nationalist murderers or jet black clouds, so it was very probably in the same afternoon, then. The still air, though not hotter than in hell, seemed without promise or memory of lukewarm mildness. Incommoded by the sun beams as weird as micro-wave ovens pouring into the worn out hats of the Kurdish Men and head-skins of the Kurdish Women through the crack on their faded scarves. Mr. halo took his hat off and laid it on the table, that is to say wiped off his head with a colourful bandanna and pressed his cheek to his palms in a major depression type of gloomy mood while his hands at the ends of the long outstretched arms clutched a black fly in the air, each hand catching one wing of the fly with enormous energy. The blood drops that were scattered from the little bodies of Kurdish babies pelted down on his forehead-or rather he felt so-with the sound first of a grenade exploded so much near, but in a short time of sweeping his face with a little wind, and he distinguished clearly and with interest the difference in noise of the bombs falling on his neighbours' houses and falling on their gardens...Essentially the earth of Turkey's Kurdistan was under the oppression to make it to drink its own blood and The Halos were listening to the sighing of the human serum or rather the soaked grasses smelling blood. Turkey's Soviet's idea of punishment must have come to the Caliph's mind, and addicted to taste-at times-his own people's serum the fake caliph probably has been impressed by the posture of the dead bodies of Kurdish babies with fingers clenched as though they were still in torment. And without knowing exactly what their sin was The Dead Kurdish Baby would probably have felt no full pain but an unfinished one.Both the Caliph-T. ERDOGAN and the Ayatollah-F.GULEN was trying to drag Kurds to the most super natural remorse or rather atonement and living was to be a sufficient atonement even a sin for Kurdish People. Over official terror planned both in the kiosk of FETHULLAH GULEN-in Pennsylvania-and in the Palace of TAYYİP ERDOGAN-in Ankara-calling Kurds for more atonement, and so on, as if there could be anything but peace for the living. No doubt they would have wondered if it was really necessary to be guilty in order to be punished for they-The Kurds-would like to be trustable allies of Americans, Israelites, and Gulf Arabs. And that officially planned terror in South Eastern Anatolia-Kurdistan has made Kurds to see living in peace, and being loyal friends of European led civilisation as their true sin! And yet Kurds were too much an ancient people in The Mesopotamia, North East Mediterranean soil, and South Eastern Anatolia that ought to be secured from ethnic cleansing or the greatest sin thereto Turkey's Soviet-the secret state or rather the enemy of Pro NATO Turkish and Kurdish People-had been oppressing at least around a century to make them plunged into the deeper atonement because of their resurrection after each inhuman attack like that of Saddam Hussein's official murders as his army's chemical war-especially-on Kurdish babies before. And truth to tell the ideas of survival and being punished were confused together in mind of the slaughtered babies' parents of mind of the, as those of cause and effect were to be confused so often in the minds of those who continue to live, to love, to think, and to pray instead of the Islamic terrorists' new organisation backed by both The Caliph in Ankara scorching all liberal friends and The Ayatollah abiding at the famous Turkish community Kiosk in the USA -Pennsylvania-preaching to cast fear and trembling on especially Kurds.That Kurdish people suffered, saying, that would Turkey's Soviet dear for their special security forces were burning Kurdish babies and should be being trialled in The Human Rights Courts knowing how went far in their ignoble crime namely ethnic cleansing to do away with Kurdish babies and let the rest to be eradicated through poverty, in order to make Kurds that to think they were Turks and to feel correctly or rather incorrectly they were perverted Turks punished by correct Turks while the Turks-all of them fake secularists, bloody racists, internationally famous swindler modernists, fundamentalists-could be correct if they might confess their incorrectness. As for Pro NATO Turkish and Kurdish Muslims loving all Europeans, they could begin to smile for only one reason: to reach the climax viz. having been recognized by the same Europeans they saluted, as then, as the founders of the civilisation.

    The Kurd? The antic people of the near east alongside with the ancient Greeks, Aramaic and Semitic people, Persians and the like. Ottoman Empire had been built by hidden Huns who called themselves after having concealed their Hun truth as tartars whose great majority was trained in accordance with the European civilisation by our beloved Russians. Turks have escaped from trained under rule of The Ottoman Empire and turned into the Turkey's Soviet-The Turkish secret state-after the World war I. Turkey's Soviet has created four prototype of citizens: Type one: modernist-secret-pink fascists, Type two: Green Islamist fascists, Type three: mere excreta of the regime, type four the mixture of fake liberals and would be socialists! And yet the greatest majority of the people in Turkey namely The Pro NATO Turkish and Kurdish Muslims didn't like Turkey's Soviet the one and only political and military power of The Turkish Republic for that power was the one and only owner of all political parties, the Army, the paramilitary troops and even the gangs and the big trade and industry investments official or would be private! The Soviet-or rather secret state under the structure of Turkish Republic-in Turkey had found everything ready for its ignoble interests over the debut of communist revolutions in the world. For instance it swindled Russians with the tale of Anatolian revolution and hypnotized Lenin and his friends to turn their blind eye before the wild ethnic cleansing sweeping the native Orthodox people in the Aegean region from the earth and throw to the waves of the antic Greeks' Sea between Smyrna and Greece. The Turkey's Soviet found everything ready to help its occupation ruining The Cyprus as a whole... And for already it has been long since that violation against the humanity in the Mediterranean Sea. In the year of Blue Marmara disaster the green Islamic terrorists backed by the Caliph T. ERDOGAN used iron sticks to dismantle the young and innocent Israelites. What were the fault of those Israeli soldiers? Having been well civilized? Then what was the fault of the Kurdish babies burnt by the special security forces of The Turkey's Soviet? There was no fault of course wilderness perhaps was the excuse of black collar fascists or Turkish nationalists. When the rain of jet fighters' bombs caught the Kurds-in August 2015-those babies were far from shelter, and they were only smiling in their cradles, yes smiling-maybe-to give thanks for the rain even if it would be the rain of bombs and the promise that it should sweep their burnt bodies stars a little later, to light the way of the heaven and to enable them to get into the Gardens of Heaven full of milk, sugar containing nutrition syrups, toys, green fields enough for them lying on back and enjoying with the pets of theirs running, rolling etc., and shouldn't they wish to do so. For they did not know quite where they were after their houses went up by the wildest explosions, and flied over the mountains not far from them as the sea was!

    (SPECIAL NOTES OF DR.MD.,PH.D. SOLZHENITSOF-THE SOCIAL MEDICINE AUTHORITY)
    These notes ought to be accepted as a bundle of light,useful, to understand, to feel, and to write down the eradication of a human specimen The Kurd whom had been being annihilated by Turkey's Soviet administered by all evil groups: Bloody red communists, ISIS type Islamic terrorists, Turkish racists, imitation modernists, and some veiled liberals officially slaying the real liberals as the Jewish Businessman UZEYIR GARIH, and Armenian Journalist HRANT DINK! In order to show its official murders, its human eradication and ethnic cleansing attempts innocent Turkey's Soviet it used to use fictitious stories to enable itself in the way of seeming a respectable state instead of a semi gang Turkish type Soviet so to make definite headway towards the one slandering Israelites over their war on Hamas terror, or through other wars like that between explorers and the primitive nomads skilful in peeling human's head skin. Or the third, it was, in its ignoble way of swindling the world, as it might be pleased to deceive The Europeans as well: pasting a label on the ethnic cleansing of Turkey's Soviet: According to The National Channel/ULUSAL KANAL the Kurds were The Americans who were shooting the Indians and the special forces of Turkey's Soviet were trying just to help Indians through killing Americans( 15.00 hours Turkish local time-27th August 2015). And yet there was a little question: If the Kurds were the bad American soldiers where were the Indians? For in order to hold fast in the place where Turkey's Soviet would happen to be it need light too, unless it went round in two alternatives viz. accusing Jews and Americans , which was practically the only possible thing in the dark, without halt to be waiting, official murders for around a century or so, for day to dawn again, and then one day the last Kurd should die of cold or a cheap bullet unless it does not happen to be cold. But if the Kurds were American a superman amongst them might have been more than human from the view of survival capacity, and could survive instead of umpteen bullet wounds could continue to fight for the right of life without sanguine expectation, seeing the rain of bullets should persist as heavy as ever might resist till the end run away with the ruined soul of Turkey's Soviet at last, so the secret Soviet-or the gang state in Turkey would not be able to reproach Kurds with what they had done, namely with having survived even if they-having lain down on the ground-might be continuing on their course, in as straight a line as possible, in the hope of chancing sooner or later on the earth to live as Kurds. As for other side of the matter The Kurd would be in tranquillity instead of being astonished at such long and violent shrapnel and bullet rain, and not astonished at not having understood the purpose of the secret state-Turkey's Soviet, from the moment the first timid flares began to scorch Kurdish innocent babies, that the fire was going to spread violently and long and that the new born little bodies could not stop it and lie down waiting for a single drop of milk from the mom of theirs who have given the last breath amongst the flames or been shot down already. On the contrary to the successful ethnic cleansing having done away nearly all Kurds in the South Eastern Anatolia the special security forces of the Turkish Soviet would press forward, as fast as the war military carriers could carry them, for they were no more human nor a son of humans. But between sporadic Kurds alive-those grave and sober people-first wounded, then crippled, there was no difference from the point of having been left to die, that silence had never done any harm to anyone. So their link with Kurds' species would be through their ancestors only, who were all dead, not over the new Kurdish generation who might be accepted as dead already instead of the fond hope they would like perpetuated themselves. But the better late than never thanks to which true men-well civilized men, true links, who could salvage the last Kurd from the pounce of the hyena named Turkey's Soviet above instead the source of civilisation-The Europeans would introduce their acknowledgement to the fake modernist, false secularist militants-who were as wild and dangerous- of the Islamic terrorists of that secret Soviet state. Turkey's Soviet: No error of its way of swindling both Christian World and Gulf Arabs. A Turkish citizen bombed Thailand sanctuary in Bangkok, and the special security forces killed or wounded several babies in Kurdistan district and yet the Turkish friend of the Europeans A.DOGAN Media like Channel D, and the friend of The USA namely Ayatollah F. GULEN Media like S-TV, and, of course, the main media organ-"a" HABER-of Turkish Caliph T.ERDOGAN would hasten to show and no doubt to curse solely an innocent Israeli soldier trying to prevent a Palestinian boy who was stoning him! (27th-28th August 2015) It wasn't beyond the power of Turkey's Soviet to hire modernists, fake secularists, radical Islamic terrorists, F.GULEN Gang's secret Islamist crooks, nationalist/racist murderers in the clandestine war on The Judeo-Christian World to whereto it sometimes seemed that it could help in the international area for liberal thought whereas it wallowed in its eternal enmity to moral values and liberal thought until the end of the history. But The Pro-European Turkish and Kurdish Muslims-the greatest majority of the people in Turkey- had not obeyed any order that should put the Europeans, Gulf Arabs or innocent Jews at the target and not have done anything in this way except having been swindled by fake liberal bandits and murderers like T. ERDOGAN and F. GULEN and vote for them in every general elections... And without going so far as eradicating the greatest majority of Turkey's people-The Pro European citizens Turkey's Soviet has waited long enough to make a good plan to intimidate victims over bloodshed in Kurdistan and to beguile the real liberal Turks over put away struggle against Islamic Terror. Seemingly Turkey's Soviet would wait forever to win its undeclared war on liberal belief and liberal thought. Occasionally there came the moment when nothing more could come happen but to slander especially Jews and Americans, to accuse or them of making ethnic cleansing or to help terrorists while Turkey's Soviet no PKK terrorists... Then whom would Turkey's Soviet like to murder? Not to murder anybody of course instead of eradication. Actually Turkey Soviet's only business was to eradicate civil Kurds no matter they should be baby, mother, grandmother nor dads or children.

    Could Mr. Halo go out, and walk in the street when all was ended? No! He could not but to wait that he knew it would be itself in vain. Perhaps he had come in the time being to that. And when (for example) all babies were burnt to death by Turkey's Soviet, shouldn't it be too late? Seemingly he has been waiting too long to attempt for any solution in vain so he would be no longer sufficiently suffering for all babies went to heaven he might be able to stop suffering. Perhaps his consideration had come to that without thinking of what he had thought. But apparently not, though acts did matter, he knew, no antecedent based thought nor thoughts succeeding could finish the actions. All the more having reproached himself with what he had not done, and with his monstrous error in appreciating the discernment capacity of his! This was it that instead of springing up and hurrying on he turned over on his back again, thus offering all babies' front to the deluge. And it was then his atonement appeared clearly for the first time since his first walks in brothels smiling broad smiles of his youth, his libido having protruded from the place which had just left as a silent, potential power. For when, lying on his back in a too much tamed and practically illimitable part of the country, he would turn over on his back...So that he has come from a mental confusion to a position deeply stolid or has come to rest at approximately from where he was before being the width of the aches in kilometres-covering all Kurdistan-and yet only some inches within the depth of his brain, for the head was right in the middle of an ethnic cleansing not any kind of skirmish. But when he was in a very narrow bridge between shouldering responsibility or denying it, and one could mean one an ache just wide enough to contain Mr. Halo and his motherland-Kurdistan, a pallet should one say, then it was in vain he would turn over on his back-remorse-then back over on his stomach-atonement-, and the head remained always in the same place, unless he made a point of inclining it to the right or to the left, and some there doubtless would be who should go to this trouble, in the hope of finding a little rest in a relentless ethnic cleansing aiming to do away with whom was suffering DE PROFUNDIS. Mr. Halo tried to look at the dark streaming mass which was all prevailing in the street. There were a nude masterpiece rendered by the special security forces over a Kurdish woman they officially remained there, but the rain of bullets dismantled both her eyes and teeth having been scattered around her head as if decorating it. And yet no decoration upon the sexual organ of hers but massive blood. Some of the commandos of the special security forces of Turkey's Soviet have dealing with digging a hole in the vaginal area splashing blood drops towards her half opened mouth: (http://www.karsigazete.com.tr/gundem...ma-h50131.html) They left her dead and humiliated body laid for a long time thus, her mouth half open and her hands shivered as if to cover her bleeding genital organ. For it was a curious thing, three English photo correspondent tended to obtain a document from that war crime induced scenery, and Turkey' Soviet had them arrested instantly! (31st August 2015) Nonetheless without showing any obsession-from the point of Mr. Halo- to ignore the ground when seeing massive blood of innocent people on it and he ought to back to the ancient history of Kurds who had been one of the antic folk there...When one was on human based subjects only, there would be a curious remark which might not be worth following up for the land without that folk should be the land of its people should even annihilated thoroughly . And just as some time before he had pulled up his attention from tending to focus on the blood of babies without clutching the grass wetted by that little bodies liquid as blood or serum, so then he hindered his mere inclination ,and again the better to feel those beloved babies' blood pelting down on a weird scenery nearer to his aching sense than his palms.Palm: Definition was dependent. Say, the hollow of the hand. Blood and Grass: Two friends in Turkey's Kurdistan, it all depends. In the midst of friends bracing each other...But Mr. Halo was nearly forgetting the hair of the nude Kurdish woman, exhibited in the street by the special forces of Turkey's Soviet after being shut by machine guns. Her white body, from the point of view of colour was too much white very much instead of the war's gloom to black and taller than average height of the ladies in Anatolia, yes, from the point of view of length very long. What was more than that would be-to say- unlimited dimensions, very long behind and very thin. And on a bloody and tragic day babies' body fluids would have gone sprouting in the grass almost like grass itself, and the serum should glue everything each other viz. one tuft to a string, stones and pebbles to the ground, chuckling of the guinea pigs-if there were any- to the twitching or rather croaking in the air, and the wind or exhausted gases of Turkey's Soviet tanks or carriers churned serum, body fluids and clotted blood up with the earth and grass into a kind of muddy marmalade, and because of the name of the son of Mr. Marmalade pulp should be used here as the word, and in the midst of his suffering, for one could not remain so long in such a position without being aided nor he could help anybody! Apparently Turkey's Soviet has been giving the most fierce war on Kurds! Seemingly it would never cease nor consequently Mr. Halo's sufferings or pain, for the cause of his pain was almost certainly the official slaughter to do away with babies thereof he was incumbent in his aching heart itself not being indirectly suffering for there existed a relation between the babies who suffered suffers that which causes his heart to suffer. For the babies' body liquid wouldn't cease, and his shouldn't be ceasing to suffer, just as his heart couldn't cease to suffer without the babies' bloodshed ceasing on that account. And on him no flickering hope was beginning to dawn for while self accusing could spend the rest of his power to survive or rather sustaining real survival which would thereby have been agreeably acceptable under this heavy, inflamed and both perpendicular and horizontal shower of bullets over the babies who might be having not had a bath just after being given birth, neither supine nor prone but inclined to be embraced. If it was not mistaken in holding Turkey's Soviet responsible for the rising dead baby toll or sufferings of Kurds and if in reality his feeling the torture upon his neck was not the effect of quite a different cause or set of causes then what would be the name of permanent evil?

    That abstract question wouldn't be able to convey the concrete pictured of a little Kurdish boy from KOBANI that was one of the vengeance target of IS or rather Islamic terror boss-Turkish Caliph so putting forward some actual profile might be more useful: For people were never content to suffer, Turkish Caliph T.ERDOGAN has recently ordered to get some children from that district in war drowned , and a little Kurdish boy- AYLAN Kurd's photo was presented to him lying-dead but as if sleeping half as little boys used to do prone-on a beach. The killers was the bloody Turkish Caliph's men and even the most blood thirsty, fake, writer-E.OZKOK has written the truth!
    http://sosyal.hurriyet.com.tr/yazar/...-adam_29974660
    As for the adults the death would not be as easy as that of little AYLAN boy and they should taste torture of Turkish racists in Antalya-that had been famous because of sheer "rape and stab" skilfulness of nomadic stock Turks trained in the way of murdering Christian tourists from Russia, Sweden, Austria and the like by Turkish Ayatollah GULEN abiding in his mansion in Pennsylvania/The USA to the and cold, rain and its contrary which is fine weather, and scorching lash of the murderers of Trabzon-wherein a priest named SANTARO has been chopped-anatomized alive under the roof of Criminal medicine centre after having been shot...So some Kurdish detainees have sent to Antalya and Trabzon to make them having got skin and sexual and peptic deficiency after a sleepless week full of the most barbaric "Trial in ordeal" samples to be rendered by the prisons who had slaughtered many Christians and were being paid by the Turkey's Soviet for torturing strangers sent to the jails wherein they were to be live in luxury.In short the furious and yet happily not too much numerous parts of bodies that would be including the neurological centres and the annexes, whatever that means, such as the hypothalamus, in order that the official murderers might not know very precisely what exactly it was that dares prevent their oppression from being fulfilled. And the official murderers of Turkey's Soviet might have been met with who had got the chance of learning far east fight techniques until they knew for certain whether their abdominal colic was of the remorse or whether on the contrary it was rather of the unexpected hits kicked by the victims. But everything could be eliciting in fights for which The Kurds were not yet full-fledged in defending themselves against The Turkey's Soviet!And indeed the dead Kurdish Children were the victims rather of the Kurdish earth well-fitted for pure reason of ignoble security forces of Turkey's Soviet that were fulfilling to eradicate all Kurds from the earth, especially in the circumstances while they could slaughter 114 Kurdish infants in some weeks:
    http://www.taraf.com.tr/politika/fai...14-cocuk-oldu/
    Mr. Halo which has been fortunate enough to circumscribe him or rather hiding himself at home. And to tell the truth he was by temperament more gazelle than tiger and could suffer extensive mutilation as a Kurdish business man viz. a ranch owner. While trying to survive, happier running than lying so that because of the war of Turkey's Soviet on Turkey he sat and lay down for fear of being the target of any berserk bullet, shrapnel and the like. Any the least pretext would sufficient to murder officially someone-from the Turkey's Soviet-its murder organisation or amongst the innocents, and the victims were generally to be chosen from the most innocents namely the Kurdish babies or little Kurdish children. The accusing fingers of that out of date Soviet would point them, and only their death toll would rise silently. Again and again that play should be played in Turkey's Kurdistan when the bloody instinct of the secret state began to prod its special security forces on the bank. And a good half of Kurdish existence must have been spared by the USA marines while Saddam's gunmen and the special security forces of Turkey's Soviet did shoot them even without accusing them of any misdeed!Not to say the beaches of Antalya where racist and Islamists had raped and stabbed several Christian ladies including our beloved Russians and their first cousins-Swedish ladies , or even the white Americans or fourth cousins, the only place for AYLAN Kurd to lie dead motionlessness on the sands which were little by little being invaded by the boss of Islamic Terrorists-Caliph T. ERDOGAN, one could not say the vital parts of the territory, but the least part of earth under the umbrella of native Soviet slightly convenient for sun bath and peace. And it must be presumed that ERDOGAN-the caliph decided by means of the advices of his consultants hired by Islamic Terrorist Army-ISIS and through the service of the Turkey's Soviet sorcerers or rather forbears, through the agency of the past preachers of his old comrade but new enemy F. GULEN-Turkish Ayatollah and his vague sentiments thereon he put a big credit because of having reached the age of master he has just reached and swearing The Europeans which is nothing or very little compared to the awful threat: he might give the last order of terrorist attacks to The east and west Europe! The people could have, as they know to their life's cost, without any serious mishap, he meant one of a new terror wave to carry the civilisation off on the spot. (6th September 2015/22.00 hours local time)

    Indeed there was the greatest ethnic cleansing of the history and ridiculous Turkish caliph T. ERDOGAN has been boasting with it. For no European ever came to help Kurds, to help and avoid them tasting death without being able to name it. Then what help could it be? Help an sacrificed people to name what they lived namely death. Whereas after naming the death it would turned into wound first then the wounded could be brought off. Turkey's Soviet-the power to eradicate all Kurds in the South-eastern Anatolia namely Kurdistan was stolid and the well civilized countries' ability needed in the very act of naming the huge ethnic cleansing was no less than it. As scorpions and snakes that attend the steps of innocent travellers in a desert secret Soviet state, Kurds to be annihilated could count only on the craft of The Europeans viz. the strength, to name the death in the morning and to get it turned into wound in the evening and then from evening to morning to attain survival without mortal hurt.So the ridiculous caliph-T. ERDOGAN decided send to the Kurdistan front 6.000 ISIS-Islamic terror induced troops from Kayseri! (7th September 2015/Noon) And notably they could never have received any gifts of war which would not have mattered if the secret Soviet's presidium-consisting of the magnates from all political parties, all businessmen, would be artists, sportive game stars, fake Turkish Einstein type professors of the Universities of Turkey's Soviet, well hidden Turkish racist commanders no matter they were generals or corporals-had been able to earn without the sweat of their brow or by making use of least intelligence. Secret Soviet state in Turkey-thanks to god the animal one would like to fry in Xmas that word might not make any aggression on the nerves when repeated-has given the job of ethnic cleansing to its special security forces and yet in weeding a plot of young Islamic Terror, for example, at the rate of soap opera ticket prices the troops would have happened that to tear the secret constitution of the state up for Islamic terror agents of ISIS would prefer to throttle humans through a mood similar to absentmindedness, or carried away by their own enthusiasm the Middle East people might know how irresistible urge that came over the official murderers at the sight of the liberal world.Even the imaginary enemies literally blinded ridiculous caliph T.ERDOGAN and the Islamic terrorists whose salaries were paid by Turkey's Soviet to their true Islamic interests-though Ayatollah F.GULEN abiding in Pennsylvania hasn't divulge his true interest-the urge to do away with all Kurdish babies , and to make a clean sweep and have nothing before Turkish racists' eyes but The South Eastern Anatolia rid of its Kurds and Judeo Christians, it was often more than both The Caliph and his political enemy-The Ayatollah could resist. Or going so far as that, suddenly a Kurdish Child from KOBANI-his name was AYLAN Kurd-swam before their eyes, they could no longer distinguish the babies for that little boy destined for being a part of ethnic cleansing so they drowned him-as The World saw him lying dead as if sleeping-in the last week and threw his little, dead at the beach in the southwest or made him a scenic nutrition of the official murderers of the secret Soviet in Turkey...
    (SPECIAL NOTES FROM THE STREETS IN ISTANBUL: Massacre Exercises/8th September)
    The various civil war teams of TURKEY'S SOVIET were there: Racists, Fascists, Nationalist groups can be differed from Turkish Islamic terrorist over religious chants, as the latter praised only Caliph R.T.E while others manifested their love for a Turkic beast-Gray Wolf. The most prominent-as official as all active groups- bystanders were the followers of Turkish Ayatollah F.G, all pseudo social democrats, fake secularist/modernist charlatans, and ALEVI terrorists neck by neck with some masked PKK terror agents hired officially all of them having enjoyed to look at the Kurdish travellers' long journey buses, cars, and motorcycles coming from nowhere to go nowhere for the well uniformed or in civil apparel butchers have decided outright to eradicate innocent Kurds from Turkey!
    BREAKING NEWS.....BREAKING NEWS.....All horror, terror, massacre organs of Turkey's Soviet have set those vehicles-the buses, cars and the like mentioned before-and given some awful thrash to the Kurds from all ages and all genders-babies, ladies, men, little boys and girls-in Istanbul. As ethnic cleansing exercises have been accomplished successfully there they repeated them all over the west Mediterranean coasts, in Antalya, Mersin, Gaziantep, Ankara-the capital city and several places!

    HOW TO KISS THE ATATUK BUST?

    http://www.mynet.com/haber/yasam/yor...uldu-2039237-1

    The weeds of adoring to Ataturk Busts thereby had been said in the past to serve useful purpose of Turkey's modernisation, secularism, and even its independence against liberal world and the butchers of Turkey's Soviet beat several Muslims to direct them violently towards a fake secular way of life. Face secularism because them but which must have their usefulness too, for the earth to favour the Turkey's Soviet instigated uneducated Muslims against secularism over punishing them till they should kiss Ataturk Busts so converting from Islam people to Islamic Terrorists. The secret Soviet state's beloved dogs or rather Turkish racists Gray Wolves have not taken part in that play previously. But they were ready yesterday and a Kurdish man was beaten to death too to kiss Ataturk Bust in his people turn and yet has not been able to kiss the bust for the torturers could not whereof parts of Ataturk should be chosen to be kissed by any Kurd and the choosing the parts to be kissed was as hard as extracting a brew, and the stick of gray wolves should fall on the head of victim-The Kurd...So the gray wolves have beaten that Kurd for hours till they found the humblest position for the Kurd while he would kiss Ataturk Bust in the street-first cleaning his mouth with sulphuric acid then touching his lips to somewhere near to genital region of the bust-a male bust of course for it was Ataturk Bust. After he did that honourless duty with vomiting the secretion of his bleeding oesophagus for the gray wolves forced him to gulp the sulphuric acid and to tear his stomach by means of the most morbid acid even he himself was compelled to admit that the place on the bust swept by his lips was covered by the pubic hairs. So the Kurd looked dirtier-smeared with blood and mucus-at his departure than on his arrival, as if a demon had driven him to be annihilated from the point of human spirit! Apparently all the dirt and filth withdrawn from the sight of that Kurdish tax-payer shouldn't have satisfied Turkey's Soviet and add the taxes thus bloody vomiting material to make Kurdish tax payer recovered to those already visible and which he was employed to remove his soul as a human. With the result that at the end of the day (8 th Semtember 2015) has been to kill the spirit of a Kurd throughout the oppression sector of the secret Soviet! While beating the Kurd the butchers of Turkey's Soviet have torn some parts of his head skin so they acquired the chance to consign the deadly bleeding organelles to his family that his family members could see the peels of the beloved man and even to see some patches whereon the butchers scorched with several cigarettes smoked by non-uniformed officials whose work was seemingly to beat Kurds, and to force the victims to eat their executioners' excrement and other muck, carefully concentrated all along the pavement before getting the Kurd wildly tortured. The greatest possible disgust from the point of the liberal and unbiased passers-by or rather the pro NATO and Pro Civilisation Turkish and Kurdish Muslims who were making already the greatest majority of all voters at Turkey polls to be beguiled by Turkey's Soviet over the pseudo liberal leaders like Caliph T. ERDOGAN or Ayatollah F.GULEN. Actually Turkey's Soviet had swindled our beloved Russians through socialism, and then tried to provoke the greatest possible number of Turkic rebelling in modern Russia showing the Turkish racists' smashing power when they eradicating the Kurds by means of a Hun like oppression!

    GRAND DREAM OF SULTAN RTE AND VIZIER A.DAUT OF TURKEY'S SOVIET: CONQUERING RUSSIA AND RESCUING THE MUSLIMS JAILED IN CAUCASSIA!

    Smashing innocent Kurds were not accidental but fatal, by means of a queer dream of Sultan RTE: Conquering Russia by the sword of Islam and making the total world of mankind to adore him. Instead Turkey's Soviet had got different type of Sultans their type changing from being a loyal communist before Lenin, a sheer fascist in the days of Mussolini, and a fake modernist while having been helped by The West Europe and The USA, praying in the presence of Saudi Dynasty members and the like, all of them choosing the one and only way: to rescue themselves personally from the toils of the life New Sultan RTE dreamt to rescue both himself through the great theft/17-25 and the Muslims of Caucasia by means of The Islamic, holy sword of ISIS. And yet the Islamic terrorist Caliph-Sultan RTE had done his honest best to give satisfaction to The Islamic World, taking as his model his more experienced idol namely Osama Ben Laden who had managed to direct the world's most incredible crime of destroying WTC towers in The USA...Briefly Sultan RTE of Turkey's Soviet-no doubt for he was claiming that The United Kingdom was trembling with fear after having been eye witness of his military power (Visit please the link below)-had planned to smash Kurds and to encourage the Muslims in the way smashing the Russians as he did in the case of beating Kurds and to intimidate Putin!All the more it was truly as if The Thief Caliph were not master of his thefts and other impudent movements and did not know what he was doing, while he was swearing England, threatening Russia, nor what he had declared a secret war on the Americans, once he had done it. For the east or west Europeans had to say to him, "Look at what you have done", sticking his nose in it so to speak, otherwise he did not realize it... And he thought he had done as any man of good will would have done in his place and with very much the same results, in spite of his lack of education or training for he was an illiterate and innumerate man. And yet when it came to doing great things for himself-like stealing big money from the official treasure of Turkey's Soviet, as for example when he had to deceive the USA in selling goods to some countries punished with the embargo of the liberal world and transferring big money from there-as in the case of ZERRAB/Iran- he really exhibited a certain dexterity, without the help of any other apparatus than his immoral methods.

    http://haber.star.com.tr/guncel/bord.../haber-1055580

    CIZRE OR THE TOWN OF DEATH:
    "DELETE THIS KURDISH TOWN FROM THE MAP" ORDERED NEW OTTOMAN CALIPH RTE
    Yes, the Caliph RTE ordered to kill at least 1000 Kurds in their houses! Of 1200 Kurd viz. one hundredth of the population-i.e. the Kurds to be slaughtered-at least 100 babies under one year old, some hundred children, some hundred old and sick people-with the condition that the majority should be chosen amongst females- and indeed because of the Turkey's Soviet had devoted to these little(!) rapacious tasks a great part of its existence, that it is to say of the half or quarter of his existence-Ayatollah F.GULEN Gang, Turkish racist murderers, KEMALIST-pseudo modern, fake secular Turkish friends of the Europeans and Americans, and Anti American social democrats or rather Anti NATO, and the well hidden Maoists associated with more or less coordinated movements of the body of Turkey's Soviet. If the army, police, paramilitary troops, and other official murderers of caliph or fuehrer or even cloned Mao type leaders of Turkey's Soviet had to order not to provide CIZRE with water, electricity, bread, medical services, he had to, if he wished the poor people not to go out from their homes nor to escape from that Town of The Angel of Death and not to a safe place relatively , which to tell the truth they couldn't particularly, but they had to wait to be throttled or shot down before being burnt for obscure reasons known who knows to God alone, though to tell the truth God might not seem to need reasons for doing what strange ISIS linked caliph RTE did...Such then seemed to be the leader profile of Turkey's Soviet, seen from a certain angle: That person might be a Leninist if Turkey's Soviet would prefer as a morbid parasite in the bowels of our beloved Russia or a liberal democrat while exploiting its poverty compared with the great Russian richness in every fields, say, in opera repertory, military modernity, forests, literature or space exploration, and museums etc. and begging money from NATO countries thereto its vampire politicians, diplomats, and pseudo, fake intellectuals used to swear five times a day. Even the future leader of The Turkey's Soviet could be the Chief of PKK Terror organisation-superficially the main enemy of that secret Soviet state but DE PROFUNDIS one of the organs of the one century years old gang called as state! Actually after eradicating Armenian and Greek people, and minimizing the population of Jews in Istanbul the Kurds were the unique enemy of that gang state-Turkey's Soviet!

    CHANSON DE CIZRE'S DEADS
    Incapable of finding a bed to lay dying
    No line in internet to share of any mort induced thing
    In instagram
    And leaving the world of the living
    The dead Kurds will be well able
    To consolidate
    Their lack of even a single deathbed
    The soldiers of Turkey's Soviet
    Have prepared the "deep freeze depots for
    The officially murdered Kurds
    So that they might be thrown into
    Till they could be buried
    In the earth of their antic ancestor: The Med
    As for the wounded civilians
    The world might witness too sorely
    When they were agonizing on the stones,
    And thorns,
    And bundles of barbed-wires
    Provided by the wickedness of the gunmen
    Of Turkey's Soviet
    Namely the intimate friend
    Of North Korea, bounded with each other tightly
    As if they were all one Turkey!
    Hardly complaining of their out of date fascism
    No matter green or red,
    Oh God what a schism!


    http://www.france24.com/fr/20150910-...dp-pkk-erdogan


    A PC MOMENT OF SOLZHENITSOF
    (New Romantic Russian Novel)
    PART II
    CHAPTER IV

    Mr. Halo was incapable in stopping official murderers break in the houses of his neighbours. Whereas he was incapable of picking the military bandits from the neck, paralysing their steps and hindering their choice thereto they should put down their feet-which might have been permitted them to go in barefoot-and even had he been so he'd have been so to that great purpose, so little was he master of his interventions in order to put an end to beastly bloodshed inflicting especially Christians and Kurds. And what is the good of aiming at the hardest rocky places when the foot, missing its mark, might go up without sinking down to the knee when sweat pouring out of his body from his forehead to toes? But to pass on then to considerations of another order, it is perhaps not inappropriate to wish Mr. Halo, since wishing costs nothing, sooner or later a general lack of power sparing at a pinch all his muscles if that could be conceivable, in a place under rain of bullets of official guns of official bandits and as far as possible to feel the drops-victims' blood. Fire, squall of bombs, crazy sounds, cold stones opposing to great heat and daylight counter night as point counter point, a week spent in CIZRE bearing eating mere grass and boiled leather, leaves fried in oil for the purpose of postponing as long as possible the fatal hour to be shot down by the special forces of a secret state should have been wonderful worth of repeating. But in the meantime in the end, the rain of bullets still would be falling with the same violence in spite of the people having surrendered to the official terror. Mr. Halo flinging himself from side to side on the sofa wherein he took a rest rolling over and over in the bed without a least pause-brief than the shortest break- a roll not waiting the other roll to repeat itself. And in accordance with the theory of rest and sleep-sleep would always be in an absolutely fixed controversy against the rest for rest couldn't take place of sleep-in the case of abundant sleep without rest his sufferings should have followed him, seeing it was tied not only to his motherland Kurdistan, and the slaughter campaign of Turkey's Soviet the toil twisted itself about his neck, but not to suffocate him at all, for theory should be one thing and reality another, and his analects of suffering remained where they were. But perhaps one day a high wind of The NATO would come and send away the secret Soviet to the garbage of history!But till the mankind's civilisation help Kurds in CIZRE the dead babies ought to be cold enough-even frozen- not to be putrefied and lease odour for no post mortem procedure could be rendered officially or unofficially and to be buried in the soil over the hills, yes the dead bodies including babies should be preserved until, for instance- the help of humanity came to the town, or the odours of the bodies shot down by the secret state might avail unnecessarily. Then it was not the first time that Mr. Halo rolled into the depths of the "Dead Baby Speculations", but he had always done so without ulterior jet engine motive. Whereas then, as he moved further and further from the secret Soviet soldiers' bullets wherein their showers had caught his "self console" mechanisms far from shelter and which thanks to the photo of the baby's horrific and yet interesting passing away continued to contrast with the humanism thoroughly-maybe the first in the history-he realized he was advancing with regular invitation calling for NATO help to rescue Kurdish babies from the death ateliers of the second Soviet, and even a certain rapidity, along the arc of a gigantic death circle doing away with the people from all age and gender groups!Mr Halo assumed that one of the extremities of a dead and frozen Kurdish baby was loftier than the other as if calling for help as a drowning human, without knowing quite which organ of the well civilized world could do it, but not seeming unconscious by much. And as the dead baby didn't roll there-a shelf in the "deep freeze" of the dead baby's home one who-actually the mother of the dead baby-carried that little victim might have conceived and polished the plan of stopping the corpse to roll on day or night if possible, or at least conserved until to be buried.

    https://www.google.com.tr/search?q=c...3jRAJEtb3iM%3D

    He wandered if the civilisation should fail in the help to the Kurdish babies having been shot dead, burnt, thrown to garbage? Apparently the army of Turkey's Soviet thus approached the confines of its plan which to tell the truth it was in no hurry to leave, but nevertheless might be leaving to slaughter the children of Jews or Christians first, Mr. Halo knew it. And without reducing his speed he began to decipher that secret Soviet state's intention after losing all the Balkan countries' geography in the near history: It should be of a new land-obligatorily the Northern Iraq or rather main Kurdistan, and it must have imagined to occupy there where it would have to rise again and hold itself erect in equilibrium, first on the right foot-namely ISIS viz. Islamic terror Army-for example, then on the left-Ataturk lovers' semi communist-pink or green racists-paramilitary groups and their well hidden troops around some hundred thousand gunmen, and where it might hit the east and West Europe and threat the USA and so survive after the fashion of a great cylinder smashing civilisation neither its Ottoman ancestors liked nor it felt cordial sympathy towards for the civilisation endowed with the faculties of rational thought and humanist sense! And what? secrecy, volition, involution. And without exactly keeping the speed of ethnic cleansing Turkey's Soviet seemingly would like to take both the lives and possessions of Kurds. Quietly or roaring its special forces, without losing time, would continue to shot Kurdish babies and burn them as usual." Which pen could narrate the disaster?" asked Mr. Halo himself, "my pen that hadn't been existing from the very debut of my tragedy? The one and only fate of Kurds should remain, huh?"





    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 09-15-2015 at 05:29 PM.

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    Please continue to read the Solzhenitsof's Novel above and below!
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 09-16-2015 at 05:48 AM.

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    Many thanks from solzhenitsof!

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    Registered User mesolzhenitsy's Avatar
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    A PC MOMENT OF SOLZHENITSOF
    (New Romantic Russian Novel)
    PART II
    CHAPTER IV
    (Contiuing from the previous page...)

    Mr. Halo looked at the daily newspaers to find any answer and saw very interesting things there:
    Sportive Games..........Sportive Games........
    Breaking News........Breaking News......
    HEY EUROPEAN FRIENDS! TRY TO READ AND TAKE MEASURE PLEASE!
    SECRET TURCO-ISLAMIC TERROR CHIEF FETHULLAH GULEN'S SCHOOLS ALL OVER THE WORLD ARE NAMED BY ISLAMIC TERRORISTS AS TURKISH COLLEGES! SEE IN THE ZAMAN GAZETTE (16ThSEPTEMBER 2015)
    Türk Koleji'nin açılışını Romanya Senatosu Başkanı yaptı
    YESTERDAY NIGHT SECRET ISLAMIC TERRORIS F. GULEN'S FOOTBALL TEAM USED HUGE, DIRTY NATIONALIST AND PROVOCATIVE FIGURES: "TURKEY" AND "CRESCENT WITH STAR" AS GIANT LABELS COVERING EVERYWHERE. UEFA'S BOSS PLATINI-BRIBED AT BY FETHULLAH GULEN'S MAN VIZ. LUTFU ARIBOGAN- WOULDN'T DO ANYTHING AGAINST THE COMING PROVOCATIVE SHOWS IN THE EUROPE AND WE PRO NATO TURKISH AND KURDISH MUSLIMS FEAR THAT YOU SHAN'T PREVENT AFTERMATH HORROR-IF NOT TERROR-IN YOUR FIELDS!

    http://www.hurriyet.com.tr/spor/futbol/30083426.asp

    Kurds' possession was on the palm of secret Soviet state, their babies' breath, and need of drinking a drop of fresh water, and their breath were all between huge fingers of the secret Soviet's special forces but the leaden skulls of the slaughtered babies haven't fallen over the neck so a corporal intended to smash a babies skull with a large wood and the other gunmen of the secret Soviet applauded him before he accomplished his abominable mission. the corporal has beaten the one month tear old skull long and round, on the soil somewhere, he was holding swearing the baby in reserve! hey wouldn't look for any valid reason to smash babies' skulls after or before shooting them death, they knew the reason was there somewhere, if they have had time before they've finished what they looked for, if they didn't find it-the reason- they wouldn't have it, and it-the reason-would make correction on the level of no correction , with the others-the reasons-, and if anything should remain of it should be nil. Quietly nil. Their military exercises might play the part of all books including those of ethics, and instead of they didn't like ethics, they might feel it in their hand they wouldn't 'use generally, and they didn't know where "ethics" came from for they didn't have it's not rules nor its sensibility when they came to shoot babies at head downright! But Mr. Halo felt it was not morality of secret Soviet to kill and burn the Kurdish babies, it was something amoral. Or rather that's the style of Soviet peculiar to the secret state in Turkey, as if it were-historically too much-sweet. In that case the soil of Kurds should belong to the special forces of the secret state too, and the little babies might be sacrificed within the specific morality of the despots having carried on with occupying Kurds' land, usurping the cups, the panes, the cupboards, the quilts. No, nothing of all that could be the dead babies' possession. But if the war exercising of the butchers had taught them to do so, one could explain why they ought to do so.The two alternatives then, the morality bound with the war exercises then the stick to smash Kurdish babies' heads, which the special forces of secret soviet did have either in the days of the Ottoman Empire or after the Saddam's like republic when secret Soviet came to well hidden power, but which every citizens did consider everything is open or the babies should described their lives as something not to be lived longer than one month! Mr. Halo was quiet, he has time to be quiet as if he were as dead as the babies died of the war thereof conditions couldn't be described even as little as possible but Mr. Halo. It was with him in the bed, under the blankets, and there was a time he used not to spend anyhow.. Intuition. Did intuition whisper into the ear of that one month year old baby that Turkey's Soviet would smashed his skull after and before shooing all points apt to be target above his neck. Nevertheless it was so long that the moaning baby passed away under the pillow and the special forces could finish his life and kicked the little corpse far from ethics. Mr Halo was continuing from memory that was black dark. He could hardly save or spent his time in the war-The war on Kurdish civilians to be slaughtered by special forces of Turkey's Soviet-years no matter he might look out of the window, resting on the sofa or even sleeping in his bed. Living as Irish, French, Swede ,Canadian, or Russian people couldn't be theoretically in Kurdistan under the occupation of Turkey's Soviet... Even if it had power to pillage the east and west Europeans' possessions, to bring them over to the capital city within the labyrinths of Ankara one by one or tangled together as is often the way with directing things, the world would not see anything for secret crimes were the specializing area of secret Soviet state in those labyrinths. Perhaps indeed they had been waiting for the most convenient time to smash the Europeans' babies as they rendered to Kurdish ones, "Let us assume they have the time, and proceed as if they had not. But it cannot be so long since they must have checked and went through all possessions of The Europe, in the light, in anticipation of the most convenient hour to come. But since then the civilisation should have forgotten it all. No! Because no sacrifice would be too great when it comes to one's children. Halo wasn't pessimist-as in the case of Kurdish babies-about the children of the Europeans. they could punish Turkey's Soviet even by means of a needle-having been stuck into corks to prevent it from sticking the owner-for the points would be useful just while the civilisation could prick the point to prick into the eye of the serial murderer who had fulfilled the biggest massacres when making ethnic cleansing in Istanbul to do away the Jewish, Greek, and Armenian population in Istanbul. (6-7 September 1955). That was wrong of course, but the slaughter intention of Turkey's Soviet-targeting at the East and West Europeans' babies-for instance over the abominable skilfulness of Islamic terrorists-taught secretly by Ayatollah F.GULEN abiding still in the USA, and obviously paid by Fake caliph of Turkey namely R.T. ERDOGAN. If the eye of the needle were much more apt in pricking the secret Soviet state's eye than the point, the civilisation would use the eye downright! It wouldn't be wrong if Europeans should punish Islamic Terror over Ayatollah F. GULEN living in his mansion in the USA/Pennsylvania and Turkey Soviet's ridiculous and bandit caliph T. ERDOGAN too. Round the ethnic cleansing in Kurdistan, having smashed them between the leftist and Islamist wings of the secret Soviet state chimes began to cling for-God forbidden-the European babies, huh? They would be pretty little objects for the butcher president RTE, and he might pay big amounts to suicide bombs after, of course, having chosen the killers amongst the world's most bloody Islamic terrorists. It would bet like nothing for caliph RTE.

    As for the Israeli babies, children and the youth of Israel the caliph RTE of Turkey's Soviet had been dealt with killing models to eradicate the Jews from the Middle-east Geography! ( Seen in GOOGLE: Geçen sene 16 yaşlarındaki 3 gencin kaçırılıp öldürülmesinin, Erdoğan'ın desteklediği Hamas'ın Türkiye'de yaşayan komutanı Salih Aruri tarafından organize edildiği biliniyor.)Then could there be anybody not bowing before that caliph? Mr Halo worried if there be such a lion heart in the earth? Though he never used alliterations while musing he must have found it useful at times or rather in some places, but not in all the ways of life, for example when going out walking. Was there any chance of walking or stopping to stand still, in the grass, on the carpet thrown away in a remote corner of the parish because it could no longer serve after having been bombed by the jet fighters of the Turkey's Soviet... By the way the stem of enjoying of standing or sitting or even lying to die has broken off (Mr. Halo suddenly remember that) just short of the neurological centre assigned for the sense and sensation. That stem could not been repaired nor one could give up it, so must have been said, "Alas, I'll not be-probably- buy myself another!" But...what but or what but, huh?All he found in the Turkey's Soviet war in Kurds was that missed stem. And all that wasn't mere supposition. Perhaps Mr. Halo thought it pretty, or felt for it that foul feeling of pity has had so often felt in the presence of existing conceptions, especially feebly sensible things in superficially trivial and yet as concrete as the stones on which the shot down and burnt Kurdish babies were lying to be buried or to be thrown into the garbage by special forces of Turkey's secret Soviet state, and which made him wish to have the little dead bodies in his home backyard and keep them always with tenderness, so that he could stoop and pick them up and put them in little graveyards with a lot of kisses and wild flowers, often with tears, for Mr. Halo wept up to a great age, never having really evolved in the fields of affection and passion, in spite of his experiences under the oppression of secret Soviet state having been making ethnic cleansing in Kurdistan.Essentially for the mixture of all ethnic cleansing-seemingly little objects but great in depths-which Turkey's Soviet had pulled off here and there, when out beating the Jewish pregnant ladies or the exiling the Armenian and Greek old people even the veterans from the secret Soviet states army were monitoring the dirtiest attacks on Kurdish minorities, and which sometimes gave UN the impression of self defence that they too needed not to fulfil. Mr. Halo might have been reduced to the dead bodies' society of his nice people or to the consolations of some religion or other, but he didn't think to do so... And he loved observation, remembrance, as he waited alone, with his hands deep in his pockets, for he was trying to speak of the time when Kurdish little children could still walk without a stick and a fortiori without crutches before they have been shot at lower extremities! Mr. Halo loved babies, little children, the youth. And yet he, also loved cats in the street and pigeons in the air of CIZRE, and he still kept in mind the face of the commander's face of the Turkey's Soviet who has ordered the Turkish special forces to shoot the cats and birds too.Once caressing a cat flickering amongst flaming smokes the hard shapely objects that were there around, it was possible too to see the mother cat died already by the relentless bullets of the Turkey's Soviet special security forces. While talking to her kit trying to give its last breath to be rescued from the toils of Kurdistan soils occupied by Turkey's Soviet. Then Mr. Halo loved to fall asleep holding in his hand the agonizing little cat swimming in a pool of its own blood!

    http://www.taraf.com.tr/politika/ciz...-de-vurmuslar/

    The little cat was to be called as smoke because of because of sweet and pastel colour of its , and yet after being shot dead and having been burnt its fur has been turned into something as horse chestnut, and Mr. Halo would be still embracing it when he woke from an instant daylight sleep or rather a dreamy mood, his fingers closed over the kitten, in spite of a tragedy induced smoke from the agonizing victim which might be seen as a rag of a body once run after its mother for milk, caressing, and love full murmurs every newbie should be like more than milk! The little cat-Smoke used to do it so that it might get tired and rest as an athlete-especially a runner-would do. And those of which it shouldn't have wearied, or which should not be ousted by new deeds. A little cat couldn't throw away the love it would feel for its cat-the mom, that was to say it cast round for a place to lay its corpse near to its mother where it would be at peace forever, and no one might ever find them-mom cat and its kitten-missed each other unless there should be an extraordinary hazard, and such places ought to be few and far between, and it laid its dead body there. If there were not the special forces of the Turkey's Soviet Mr. Halo would have buried it in the backyard of Halos' house, or threw it into the sea-the most innocent huge water of the old earth, with all his strength as far as possible from the land, it he knew for certain would not float! Smoky-the killed kitten, has become a Mr .Halo's friend of in his "Reverie World" of Mr. Halo. There were other little or young-human-friends too who have shot dead and thrown to the garbage by the special forces of the secret Turkey's Soviet whereof the mankind morality was crawling at the bottom of the sewers terminal spam, weighted with the one century long crimes of the secret Soviet state. Until he realized it was wrong of his to trust the useless promise of the state that Turkey under the secret domination of a secret state would be something related to human. Saying not anything of humanity that state is even lower then hyenas from the point of moral values...For when both the past and the present time were rotted they will rise to the surface of future to blot it, and yet our school friends' today wasn't proved spoiled-at least thoroughly-in a high possibility they have not already done what Mr. Halo did-pitying his past covering the school friends' survival-,and the Kurds had got still to return to their antic land's borders, sooner or later he ought not worry in this way. Essentially he would like to dispose of things he would consider at that very certain period of the day but could no longer keep up the speed while plunging into ventilation matters, because of many a new lovable points calling his thought faculties of his totally evoked brain so he explored suddenly the ways that could be stirring enough to direct healthy mentalities towards uncontrollable actions of mind: Hallucinations! Mr. Halo thought that doctor medicines often missed the simple fact wherein mental disorders were generally to inflict, more or less, every human, or rather every animal, and who couldn't put up with them should fall in the overt symptoms medical sciences would call mental illness. (Had they were not hidden so well even every soul might call those general symptoms' infliction as an ailment and might go bedridden for the complaints that were defined and moulded in some terms of ailments could never be found simple and let to be cured for the time being, huh? "Hey MDs try and find them-the definition and igniting new finding of reasons-again. That's the style of human's catching an illness: to name it." burst he. Mr. Halo, as if he still had time to kill instead of enliven it was progressing some considerations within-some rally pure scientific anyhow- conceptions. And so he had, deep down he renew them, well? Then why not to make an anatomy of other disasters in the condition of not being in a vain hurry? He didn't know. Perhaps he was not in a hurry after all, this thought of sickness had been the impression he had had a long time ago. But what about the other impressions. And what after all if Mr. Halo were not so anxious as he made out to recall to mind all that is left to him from the toils of an officially rapacious war to eradicate an innocent people? Of all he ever had, a good dozen objects at least impossible to be recalled mildly, huh? No, one couldn't do it. Then it's something else. Where were he and Mrs Halo, and Khali-the son? Somewhere secure and serene. So he never tried to get rid of his privilege that might be used it as the means of feeling good if not happy, and he kept things so related to happiness. But he wondered what the Canadian mannequin might have done in fighting to rescue Kurdish babies in KOBANE, so small a town, and what she made a little mission of her whole life till she has been wounded for that mission, out of-Europeans' stock its humanist morality of hers. Next? Poor Mr. Halo who was at the threshold of losing his folk, and over Turkey Soviet's wilderness, decidedly it would never have been given to him to taste progress in the ways of the European civilisation alongside with breathing. The people under oppression would lose the natural skill of breathing whereof one should be greedy. Breath skill ought to be marvellous especially while making sex and being trained in something. Was this dirty war aiming at the eradication of all Kurds on the old earth teaching how one chokes? Presumably. Presumably what, or rather what's that presumably? Presumable...no accurately-down right-rattles were less dangerous than Turkey's Soviet from the point of biting to babies dead! Or drilling scarlet holes in their semi watery muscles with blue steel-as sharp as a blue iceberg-, and what about the rattle around the Turkey's Kurdistan? They all migrated from there to Persia for therein had lived Khayyam the poet while Turkey's Soviet would come to the meaning of animosity toward poetry and even the literature as a whole... Mr. Halo remembered that both Islamic, communist, and modern Turco-Islamist hands were present everywhere including the new-dubious-threads around that beginning with "Thus spake Solzhenitsof...

    Perhaps it was not only the one day old thread starters trying to change SOLZHENITSOF-The greatest enemy of Turkey's Soviet priority in "Who Said That" box while opening it within the first place de rigueur after all. Then backing to debut the secret Soviet state has not vegetated and be bloody than all rattles. How could Kurdish life has dulled the power to protest the internal frustration to be sure when Ayatollah F. GULEN blamed Turkey's Soviet admirals to sell lieutenant young women in the army-if selling wasn't enough to carry the gravitation centre of amoral commanding-to rich man to make more many beside incredibly abundant salaries. The Kurds wondered also Caliph RTE-the enemy of Ayatollah-how would be paying premiums to those pimp commanders-as Ayatollah claimed during the popular trials of ERGENEKON for every burnt babies and beheaded youngsters of Kurdish stock! And yet if the Europeans wouldn't reach the burnt babies and, written materials, they couldn't help Kurds and the others couldn't endure the Turkey's Soviet oppression, but vanish for the rule "publish or perish" obviously should have turn into "make the material you wrote publish in TLN or vanish into the thin air. Mr. Halo would never know he could be seen by the East and West Europeans if he should not convey some burnt organ parts of the Kurdish babies or some pieces of papers narrating their stories before the very eyes of the Europeans-the modern civilisation constructors. So he might not finish the compilation of estate licenses whereof the Greeks of Cyprus had lost their homes, gardens, orchards and even precious stones, golden moneys and the like...A little chirp from the inside of his heart -from a parakeet perhaps-told Mr. Halo that psychiatrically naming the war started for the sake of ethnic cleansing is committing with suicide for the oppressive nation if it's a real as our beloved "Russian", be it so. A confession in any case, Mr. Halo couldn't help it, he must have stated the facts, without trying to understand, to the end. There were moments when he felt feel he has been under the dangerous-full of danger of ethnic cleansing probability against his folk-roof of Turkey's Soviet always, perhaps even was born therein. Then it passed monotonously. That would not explain any the less reason fitting to the secret Soviet state's war on The Kurd.


    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 09-24-2015 at 04:34 PM.

  14. #254
    Registered User mesolzhenitsy's Avatar
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    A PC MOMENT OF SOLZHENITSOF
    (New Romantic Russian Novel)
    PART II
    CHAPTER IV
    (Contiuing from the previous page...)


    War on the Kurdish boy that loved to write. Before "Sacrifice Festival" of rich Muslims Turkey's Soviet cut the writing hand of that boy for that hand should have remind of The Europeans all phases of ethnic cleansing to eradicate Kurdish people-in KOBANE by ISIS/Islamic terrorists and in CIZRE by Turkish gendarmerie-after a long absence of mind of the Europeans or rather civilisation makers in the case of rescuing all victims but the oxen and sheep to be throttled in the streets of Istanbul like cities. But the civilisation makers could have done empathy over feelings and hypotheses and might stop the most striking deeds-inhumanly striking deeds indeed-namely cutting living bodies' organs but sacrifice. That knife of butcher was Turkey's Soviet adjacent to the Europe and that was all about it in the regions where the Kurd lived. It was stained with blood, but insufficiently, insufficiently. According to the wild beast's logic of Turkey's Soviet it had to defend itself, no matter brutally or gently, it should defend itself!

    http://www.taraf.com.tr/guncel-haber...lem-tutacagim/

    The photo whereof link-above- was available thereby is what Mr. Halo told to the civilisation makers at times. One hand, originally a cocktail of blue and yellowish pink in colour has been cut off alongside with one of his foot or rather leg longitudinally. While the others were in natural colours the parts cut by bayonet were red so that the bluish pink on the fatal wounds hued yellow as if blood has gone at all. Essentially the special security forces took the anatomized parts of the body of the Kurdish lad away, at the end of their relentless punishment, before they realized that they should never do it... Hands, legs foot of Kurdish lads: they left the other, in the hope-that would be hoped, seeing that there were no exit-without its fellow organ after the first boom of a mortar of Turkey's Soviet special security-or total or rather absolute ethnic cleansing-forces. People were like the body parts gouged out from their proper places-like an arm dismantled from the shoulder or the muscle bundles from the armpit tearing the skin between throat and the area abdominal running-out of their houses in flames leaving back their one day old babies. Mr. halo thought that everybody must have looked for the link everywhere, no matter with an android or by means of a P.C and the like for there the Kurdish youngster was asking where his hand and other parts of his body. Especially his hand for he never thought that he would be able to write down anything when he should accomplish his education more or less successfully... He used the pitch of the top of his voice while crying and asking the same question: "How can the Kurdish youth write without hands?" And as he should never look for his hand any more for it had been cut off!,




    TO BE CONTINUED...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 09-25-2015 at 04:20 PM.

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    Well!

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