(Me) But we do need some fence around the mission.
You test me, or want to tell me something, and not know how? By this translation that I receive, theword you used means nothing nice. Defence from egbirk... villains? Here that not there. [none of that here]
Ah, the fence is a decoration. To bring some of earthly cultures.
Yes, you let on that most of the things you decorate come all the wayfrom
the cave. Weapon, crests. In everything to you there is some fight.You still
have not given up fight among [your]self. I know, power of habit,few thousand
years. Zeneia once told me your legend of Brantenberg, thatthe place was
initially called "broni bor", border forest. [Is] that wherealso your fences
[are] from? Maybe you may try to bring some of those customsalso here, but
I doubt they will take root. Anyway, this [thing] with thefence will not
do good, sit [and let me] show you.
What?
How it would look.
I am experiencing a slight blur, something like that sudden sound which appears in my head before I get asleep. Sometimes it is like the noise of wind condensed into one instant, sometimes like dropping all the wheat for a full sack onto a wooden floor, sometimes I hear the real electronic white noise. Once I even felt as if some toy has bounced off the table and hit my forehead. This time it is not just the sound - I feel it through all of my skull, through all senses. It is not unpleasant, but it did surprise me. It is getting dark rapidly, then it dawns, twilight again, then flashes of day and night in an accelerated string. We did imagine the time travel somehow like this, but where's his equipment?
The wall is erected, yegon is really developing faster than such a
skinny plant would lead to conclude. Around it some strange weeds flourish,
which weren't growing here. The tree breaks off and overgrows even the most
prosperous shrubs. The crown widens and covers three neighbouring trees;some
of their branches dry and gradually start looking miserable. The wallunder
yegon crumbles and vanishes. Instead of the wall a row of tables andstools
appears, nice place for summer slumber in a shade. A path is beatenthrough
the grass; the grass is different from the sort I remember, somewhatshorter
and darker green, one would say it inclines to blue.
The same sound, even more staccato than the first time. The sudden silence
after it shook me - I understood that all the time of this trip I kept hearing
some distant hum. Like the sound of sand being poured, slowed down several
times. If the flying school exercises haven't failed, this lasted a damar
and a half, and we should have gone
thirty years.
How did you do this?
That is like a khramonzom to you, you just point the mragoon other way.
Put back after.
I didn't quite understand.
I didn't expect so. Do fish learn to ride bicycle?
Do I have to be fish forever?
Yes and no. Maybe a fish bicycle may be made. Trouble is there is no bicycle here. It is all in you.
Wait a damar. You performed this walk through time?
Could be called so also, though does not fit nature of time in no way; it is not a mall.
I could really do with an easy explanation, but what [it] is, here [it] is. How come I saw, felt, all of it, and here I am a fish on a bicycle?
Fish in a glass, the biker carried you underarm.
I could have fell out. The glass might have shattered.
Right so. The biker would never do it unless watching the fish very carefully.
And there is no bicycle.
There is the biker. Maybe a better expression may be "walk on wire". So somehow.