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The greedy desire for possession is pushing forward, burrowing with a thousand shadows unceasingly. Home's poisoned form worms its treasured fruits and the calvary of the average consumer man unprotected in his home is embodied in a single blow: it surrounds him, suffocates him, lavishes him with everything until he is suffocating.

Slowly, nothing can grow without interest, without ulterior motives; food, drink, love, or career - a free-thinking, creative-nature soon grows cold. Where can the saviour-creative mind sneak quietly?! When, to everyone's delight, the scandal reaches unbearable heights, even those who hoped for five minutes of fame are crushed. But you can't trust the occasional mall cat, testosterone-gigolo.

The world's most influential congregation is breeding signal-bearers like parasitic plants, and there is no longer any reason to try to protect and create the future in other ways - syrupy legitimacy is the new slogan, which is being hacked every day.

If only something real could be left behind for every man, and not a cross on a grave or a number on a square, so that descendants could remember him instead of any special meaning. For those who have tried to get by with a degree, but without connections, have failed in vain and sooner.

Those who did have trusted acquaintances became career-breakers first and then crushing monsters. Their turnaround was perhaps already over; in the totality of unemployment they were able to make a livable life and glorious careers. The gap between private and professional life is even greater!