“...True, I am not a person. Hindered by forces many times superior to mine, I eke out my existence in a timeless nowhere, in which there is not even emptiness, and my very thought - unfettered, free - is doomed to dissipate in this “nowhere” ”, without ever meeting the grateful elasticity that could return it to me. And then, at the peak of despair, in a paroxysm of loneliness - I came up with it: absurd, absurd, consisting entirely of particles that deny happiness, only so that the hungry sensors of my soul could catch that echo, that shadow that alone is capable of confirming fact of our existence. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa. It was a cheater’s trick, forgive me, Busik...”