Denial Of Everything, Worship Of Nothing

The grass was everywhere. Under our feet, in their pockets, in our socks, in our mouths, in our lungs, in our minds, in our souls. Everyone was looking for something and seemed to be able to find part of it. But none of what we find is enough. Nothing is ever enough and we keep looking. Sometimes at the table with his friends or under the sounds of Indian mantras chanting the wisdom of Krishna and his many children. In fact, let's start with the social part of prose. I attended a hip-hop festival. I don't like this style of music. Rap is an art. Sometimes even when you're not drunk (don't believe it)! It was wonderful to be in nature, you can touch and feel it with every movement. Most strongly, however, I felt the hangover and my body wounded by the uneven ground. We slept in ducks, and a net of hammocks seemed to be tangled between them. Everyone was laughing and screaming. The topics revolved around the masses, encompassing alcohol, rap, then sex, passing unnoticed by food, and all in all repeated. After the goat shrinks again. Otherwise, these topics ... somehow they died, "bro". I found it interesting to think of some people raising their children from an early age in the spirit of rap music. I believe that the kids who ran around the tents will appreciate the foresight of their parents when they grow up: they will stay in the protest against the status quo and resistance to the smell of marijuana. In fact, there is something in the grass that I like. It makes people sincere. They were all so down-to-earth, happy, indignant, but somehow relaxed and not angry. And in the end, this "non-Chalgar" part of the Bulgarian youth killed themselves no less sinisterly than their dozens, smeared with make-up and adorned with chains, "colleagues" on the chalgoteks. It's just ... we all search and the more we find, the more we leave. We give up everything we have and everything we don't have. I don't blame people who do freestyle at 6 in the morning with a throat filled with the poison they took in the last hours. I do not defend the chalga that educates mercantile sluts and arrogant thugs. I don't take anyone's side, it's just that apathy bothers me. Still, looking at the young performers chanting the negativity of the "system" and the torment of their souls, I wondered something. Where is Bulgaria Throwing herself on the grass, she gets lost. Slowly, amid the poisonous smoke, the gleaming eyes and the drawn-out speech. Her children keep looking for themselves, rediscovering themselves in the trance of marijuana and the other fun things that rap sings, or meditate through the messages of Indian mythology. Why do I scratch nonsense? After all, "Chalgar patriot is gone!" - I remembered this wisdom, although it was a little difficult for me to abstract my thoughts from the disgusting smell of grass. It has always been much easier for me to cry by force than to laugh pretentiously. And yet I smiled at our defeat. I smiled at the non-stop talking accompanied by background music. I smiled at the desperate weightlessness that gripped us. I was smiling at Bulgaria .. And yet I smiled at our defeat. I smiled at the non-stop talking accompanied by background music. I smiled at the desperate weightlessness that gripped us. I was smiling at Bulgaria .. And yet I smiled at our defeat. I smiled at the non-stop talking accompanied by background music. I smiled at the desperate weightlessness that gripped us. I was smiling at Bulgaria ..