Every driver and driver experiences their meat
every morning, from year to
year how the fast road has already
turned from their side to the road.
After the closures and the silence of the roads, when
everything stops and I start anew,
there is a feeling that
there is silence in the lighthouse.
This one bisector Isral Bcl Cbis and Mslol,
Sirot Mbksot Cbr Lfrtz unto it to the city,
Gm Fsi Hrcbt Hsri Hhsmol
there is not Bhm Hlofh Lmtzb Hmhmir.
Once again the time is set for him in the cork of the Wise in
minutes, in the expectation of life, in recitation, from the
value, from the length, from the
improvisation as in the past.
For years they have been talking about the condition of the roads,
paving and digging, laying another fence.
"It's going to happen, there is a vision to be fulfilled," they
promise, and in the meantime it's just deteriorating.
The vision goes away, the history testifies, a
hundred years ago (and this is not a legend)
from generation to
generation a camel from Amnech the rich.