Robert K Wheeler
2015
There were no times for personal manners when it came to sustaining a life in which everything was rationed out like an army battalion heading to the battlefield. It was a battleground where survival fought hunger toothpick versus bayonet. At any rate, postulation that the reds’ autoclavic realm wouldn't embrace a certain future; wasn't a grueling discovery. Hence, everyone was plucking the reds-ruined enterprises; while the reds were displuming everyone as a token of gratitude, as if they were edible birds. At first glance, it seems to me like a felicitous symbiosis and that, of course if the situation were assessed from afar, or at much higher altitudes. The reds were by all odds, building a beta future filled with unparalleled variables, where “if” or “else” was present at the end of each dogmatic statement.
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