On the roof by Joe Moler

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I don't know how the time is walking bat I see that many ends are coming, many heavy rains of dust are spiting on our lives. Working in a knitting factory is a punishment from the heaven. Who knows why I am hire. Nobody spoke English, I do not understand, we communicate with ayes and hands, we work with salty jussi angriness an we go home around 10 by busy dark tunnels of roads. Living in a dirti brick building in Green street in Brooklyn is also punishment but I don't know from where it come, bat punishment no doubt about that. Lest night with bottle of vine I was waiting new year in the building flat roof looking lights of Manhattan and fireworks that penetrate the dark sleepy night. I finish bottle and I was looking down on the street thinking that I am not far away from end of all problems that time and life put on my back. Just jump down on the street and everything stops, no more nothing, only beautiful thinking what is the next. I am curies about what is the next. But I am just one scary person fool of dark lost tots hidden in my closed cold dark chest. I took another bottle of vine and finish it very kuick looking the lighting bulbs of Manhattan, rich and challenging. Many happy people behind the lighting windows. That how it works; suffering and happiness has to be in balance, I am approaching the border by opening third bottle and sitting in abandoned old chair that somebody left on the roof. It Is mach better to drink than jump on the street I realize and this tot fill mi with happiness. Happy New Year!
He he, I know, nobody can understand my tots mixes with vine maid of warm sunny light down under in Australia. Good night.