February 4, 2026, Wednesday.
Grand Ledge, Michigan.

Pure white cold, pitch black mud. Snow a few meters high. People freezing, dressed as if it were summer. A generous nature, a magnificent world, living to the fullest, crying inwardly but from happiness, but passionate, excitement at every moment.

The slow-moving sorrows of fast-passing time. Their bellies reminding young-feeling souls of their age. We are the dreams of grandfathers, the archives of tomorrows. Becky Summer is shining, eyes green, hair blonde.

Blood was shed, blood was shed. Saying “let our blood not remain on the ground,” it never stopped, the corpses never ended. We were killed and we killed constantly.

Is wanting to crush man, people, murderous or is it a necessity? To the oppressed, a curse. To the oppressor, an act of worship.

I ate meat today. We always ate meat. Human meat is eaten too. We don’t eat it, there are those who do. It’s easy to condemn. Let’s try to understand.

The things that happened with Epstein are not unusual things. If we were in that position, we would have inclined to it too. Perverts are not a handful, we are all the perverts actually. Only great strength is needed to make the confession. Most of us are weak, though. And few of us are confessors.