Closed game Shah

And after all at us all so was lyrical. In rhyme. In the assonance. Each day was a beautiful poem. It seemed that for all these years the inviolable buildings of the eternal city were being built. And our story was inscriptions on the sand. Just one wave - and all washed away with ease. After all, feelings are always dull and break, bumping into quarrels. At first it's completely invisible. But still decrease with each collision and in each round. And then we touch the patient himself not for the purpose of anesthetizing, but to strengthen the opponent's pain. We make ourselves insane and dive into it with our heads. So when the mind fills carelessly and the psyche burns.

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