آقا ما یه شبه دخی عبدی رو حریف بودیم، این زن اتریشی که دیگه کوس شعره

It is not far until someone's knee, nose or head bleeds, or is completely tied to the bed in this hide evidence crime of the nazis

I have no violent or criminal records or history in Vienna, but the psychologists and doctors want to blame even the smallest conflicts on paranoid schizophrenia. With so many Austrian fascists, Austrian psychopaths, Austrian fraudsters, and thieves, it's all a war of nerves or a psychological war with hidden evidence. Have you seen greater charlatans and bastards in Europe than the Austrian NAZI government? Or judges, police officers and prosecutors? Is there anything in the EU more despicable than Vienna and its citizens? As filthy, as filthy as in the days of Mauthausen. Bastard, never-ending, fucking fascism.

Yesterday's dream and visit by Mr. Jafari was a successful contract involving Reza Mallahi, police politicians, and judges. Commissions and protection money for crystal meth production (Iranians and Kurds in Vienna), distribution, facilitation, and impunity. Also a cleanup operation in poor districts through attempted drug mixing, i.e., in districts with foreigners.

خودش بود، دیشب اومد تو خوابم، گفت همه از کونی ها تشریف دارن جناب ملکوتی، بفهمی نفهمی نمیدونم، همینه شازده

I don't understand the excitement in chat rooms, especially among gay and lesbian judges: they've been the ones who established it over the past 24 years: art in my hands is worthless unless it's stolen or I'm cheated! What's the point of burning art, desecration of art, or the radicalism of a crazy cleric?

well, it was one hundred percent epath when I slept just a meter away from Michael, 2 months ago

In any case, I believe the Italian painter shared my view at the end of the 19th century: the mummy was an empath, not a "no empathy", blood for color mixing wasn't a major concern. Many used it from killer pharaohs; I personally burned their masterpieces. Good night. And never paint with mummy corpse powder again.

the exhausted sad and timeless friend is also waiting, Michael

I sometimes despair of hearing voices myself, but why every time I visit this Kanvas? I'm warmly greeted and received with a grown-up, childlike voice, "Heheh he heheh he, we're here too." Several times I thought it was a toy doll from the next compartment or storage room that reacts to noises, but then I think, "How long does your battery last?" or is someone playing with you and changing your battery? Hehehe he heheh he, where have you been? You rarely come, we haven't seen each other in a long time. I get scared too, namely of myself, if I decide to stay. No alarm will make a noise, because the motion detector reacts to movement after 10 p.m.

I have been fascinated by Kate Thompson's textile art for some time now. It's a nice idea to make blind people see again, to simply make them visible.

آقا به یک لر گفتن: روانی دو قطبی چته؟ یه نفس دیگه بیا:جواب داد: گوش کن: زمین هم دو قطبی بید، هم تنها بید و هم خاص هم بید، تو هم فکر کن من روانی بید..

بچه خر میکنی؟ پوست و استخون شیر عقده نیست، طبیعت دریدن بهش میگن حیوون ، حالا شمشیرت به تخمم، آدم باش!

Postwar Austrian and German was too much flattery, but this emancipated, multicultural facade annoys. Not you, but it makes me sick. I'll hang it on the wall for a while and drink beer until I order one of the bottles to tear it down.

اون که دیوونم کرد لایق جنون نبود، همه چی دروغ بود، همه چی نقاب بود... خواب خواب خواب بود، من باید میرفتم،...... ز.... و...

So, problem solved, chair dimensions fit exactly, no damage, 0 risk

So if the white cloth used as an airbag didn't damage the canvas, and the glasses, crystals, and sculptures are all right, then it's a miracle, but what if I solve the problem on my own? Is there a solution? It probably happened around midnight when I was sleeping and someone wanted to come in. The key wasn't in the lock. I forgot it for the first time, and I didn't lock the door. Patrik you Asshole

In all seasons, if there were no wind, even trees would become incredibly scary, or even healthy roofs. It's as if the world stands still until something terrible happens. Not a hurricane, but a rain of fire, and the trees would burn, laughing. Knowing why and how is good; not knowing why is more terrible than the rain of fire, so crying and burning.

Patrik kept saying in the tent next to the beach: I don't know anyone like you, someone so emotionally affected by this song. What's it like for you? What connects you to California and that burned-down hotel? Well, I gave him my divan, and he read it and burned it down, too, a total of 200 pages. A divan is your birth certificate, passport, and your citizenship on Earth. So, I'm no longer a resident, just illegal.

Patrik told me: Not far from the Pakistani-Indian border, there's a place where you should lie on your stomach and take three puffs from a tube connected to a covered trench. Number one is a sensationally rare model, which you receive as a unique one. If you survive smoke number two and don't turn to clay, you get what you deserve, an extraterrestrial something. But if you inhale number three, he knows that you're also Big Bang-worthy and therefore on par with Gabriel! Well, he's got the nerve to tickle someone like me.

I have to go to sleep, but the beer farmer is still brewing beer, a very bad trait, because his autocracy "you shall submit and surrender" technically begins with laughter and drunkenness! Just like the one-eye: a bowl, a jug, and wine turns you into admirers and poets.

As for the facets: hell and eternal torture are also created by God, thus a deep black. Digging back into the depths to black requires purity.

The fascination never leaves me, the story of a beer brewer and the shepherd on the Wienerberg. I read it on six or seven adjacent white stones, the entire story painted in miniature with black and red paint. The last piece of stone was decorated with a strategic war formation: the farmer was long dead, but the beer farmer and one-eyed, two warring parties, were still planning maneuvers. good night

Courage and instinct should be a green, blue, red piece of wood for the judge's verdict based on his statements in chat rooms and on social media: murder and manslaughter concerning women. But he doesn't do it. Who has the courage to quit their job? You international judges and live observers of Austrian chat rooms?

Darkness isn't always the same; it has many facets. The Quran is often misinterpreted and selfishly interpreted. I don't know what the Arab neighbor just sang loudly from the Quran. He probably gave too much importance to a dark, housewife-level intrigue! Well, I sometimes sing something incomprehensible over it, so my deep black remains pure.

If you go without TV for 10 years and keep your eyes and brain synapses clean, you get used to terrible tragic fantasy interpretations, well, energy Scott, cheer me up

Yes, if you're thinking and pondering about Mark Rothko, it was somewhere in Vienna three years ago for two euros. I bought it from a brilliant contemporary who through Bauhaus advertising was so ambitious as to turn this flatweave into a pinboard: Rosa wants to pick up her new violin on Thursday, Walter has to go to the shoemaker, Heinz, don't forget your doctoral thesis, Helga, cooking is your nature. It could have been woven by Bauhaus women, from woman to woman.

It's been with me for two years now, and was even in a shop for eight months. What I found out: many people were attracted to the Painting but didn't know whether to hang it horizontally or vertically, so the best price I could get was 70 euros. For the Gate to Hell, a run-down free jazz club in old New Orleans, I paid 300. Well, I feel it again, and I don't believe in a sunny, peaceful day off on Thursday, but in... cold gray Vienna, and Barbad Farahani whining and crying again and again and again.

I still think about the psychiatrist in the hospital where I was locked up for a week. Today, a robust Russian woman revealed the truth to me: first, the police wouldn't leave me alone because of orders for psychological injuries and Stasi techniques, and then, when I refuse the Iranian and Austrian women would scream: only a street whore or someone of the lowest class would live with him. Eight years have passed, I'm still healthy, and everything else is normal. Every filthy person with complexes rubs himself to ecstasy, chanting as he rubs: long live this atrocity against him.

pizza for 1.70 tastes better, 2 minutes left