Nobody really knows when the body dies. After brain death, and then organ failure, and all the electricity's gone, a rotting corpse still feeds the world, mother's diesel for the biological engine of life. Who knows where the internet will go, or for how long, or in what strange aeons it will return? Who can say if ours was even the first?
Крис Норман цепляет медиатор на лоб. Кто-то в зале: "Водки найду!" Крис Норман: "Fuck off, maybe later" *выступление заканчивается* Крис Норман выходит на энкор и играет What Can I Do
Хороший вечер был.
If time is a vessel, then learning to love Might be my way back to sea
Nobody really knows when the body dies. After brain death, and then organ failure, and all the electricity's gone, a rotting corpse still feeds the world, mother's diesel for the biological engine of life. Who knows where the internet will go, or for how long, or in what strange aeons it will return? Who can say if ours was even the first?