This is supposed to be a rich village, but the whole area is poor.
They keep telling us that it will stop, but it's not stopping. The government is always saying they'll stop ... But up to now, it's still continuing.
The fish have gone from the rivers because of the noise. The fields are polluted from the oil, nothing grows.
If God had intended us not to masturbate he would've made our arms shorter
(May 12, 1937 - June 22, 2008)
Right now, it's a search for names, just like it was in the Internet sector, where you started with the big-cap ones and then you went to the smaller- cap ones,
I wonder if any of them can tell from just looking at me that all I am is the sum total of my pain, a raw woundedness so extreme that it might be terminal. It might be terminal velocity, the speed of the sound of a girl falling down to a place from where she can't be retrieved. What if I am stuck down here for good?