These people are killing me. They are killing me
with the way they think, the strict points of view they insist me to take, the
ridiculous rules that have been standing sturdy and threatening. They killed my
creativity, shooting every bulb I have in mind with their insults and rejects.
I saw them as old-fashioned villagers when I came from the town, bringing
knowledge and experiences that I had. Not much. But I gave those ideas for
free. They refused. I guess I don’t belong to this village. I don’t belong in
their ancient world. I feel sorry for them.
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