This is disco, baby. You are going where? Do I look like a person who would know? My tail is on fire and so is my tongue. I dipped the latter one in a secret of some sort. It burned a little and what did I gain? I forgot the damned secret. Now, what kind of crap is that? I don't know. Therefore, I saw locking myself into a closet for two weeks as the only option. What a wild experience it was. What wild thoughts I had. Something about parrots. Something about a vile headache and cold sweat pushing through.
Something about caring about something or someone. Something that reminded me about mango fruits, about monkeys chasing each other. I tried desperately to write a book about this experience. "The closet for dummies", or something of such. What was the question again? Oh, I see. Not sure, but I would dare to guide you down the street that you see over there. I believe that you can find the bay of souls somewhere behind the curve, ma'am. And so they departed. Pa**ed each other by and never met again.