Entrance
The Kingdom Of Heaven Must Be Taken By Storm

Location: Golconda-Third Central Ring. Affected Environment: Desolate southern subway station. Time: 158 years 6 months 6 days 6 hours to the end of the world (pitch black - 3 neon lights). "This is the devil's music, this is the devil's music, this is the devil's music. Is this the devil's music, mom? A common trademark for all current alternative folk music. A very reliable low recording quality." You're screwed.

Sitting on the platform waiting for the train, you think back to how you were so good at ping pong as a kid: you were really a champion. But now you shouldn't have left like this. Rebel and escape in that way. They will find you, and when they catch you, you'll probably still be able to remember what pain feels like in the brain. There's no one, and the speakers broadcast onto the steel of the tracks an artist you had already heard of in life... "I remember this... he talked about it a couple of times, giov... maybe this is the right time to listen to it with a bit of attention... but sure, he got excited right away as soon as he heard a desolate, sad, maybe acoustic melody... well... I was like that too, though..."

Clamor in the distance and glass bottles breaking against the walls. You're worried. You turn your head to the side to hide your face; you look down: no one. But why the hell is there no one? Is it a trap? Meanwhile, the music gets into your blood. Just a voice. Just a guitar. An endless lament, an Indian melody, a loud wagon of Spanish gypsies. Some percussion. A lot of reverb, air molecules shifting in the tunnel. Lots of alcohol. A lot of atmospheric density.

Suddenly you think back to that bitch of your little girlfriend who slapped you in the fifth grade. You shouldn’t have drunk so much before, and they'll be here any moment now... I can already imagine all that blood. "But if someone is dead, why the fuck do they still bleed?" You tilt your head back and close your eyes. "How on earth do penguins mate? Surely that's a big problem..." When you reopen them, everything has turned blue. Beautiful. "The polarizing filter, the polarizing filter, the polarizingfilt..." you stop because you see in the distance a little man with a cowboy hat with a belt and guns smirking. He's a battered old man. "Okay. It's done. I'm screwed." Motionless, he looks at you from 50 meters away. He blows you a kiss and jumps down onto the tracks to disappear running into the darkness of the tunnel. You're no longer making any sense of anything, and listening to these desolate notes makes it almost feel like coming back to life. You close your eyes again. The speakers interrupt the music for a service announcement in a code you don't understand. "They're looking for me. They gave the alarm... but why the hell is there no one here?!? And yet with all the crap mankind has done in history, this damned stop should be packed at this hour."

The music resumes, bringing Bob Dylan to mind; the second song of "Blood On The Tracks" to be precise, you think of your father, and you start to cry. Let them come and torture you now. Now you are more untouchable than fate. They have never listened to "Blood On The Tracks". A cold wind rises that moves your hair on your forehead. "Here they are, it's them." A rumble makes its way through the tunnel, and where you once had a heart, now it feels like something is pounding strongly. No. It's not them. The train has arrived! You have another chance. Time to move your ass, friend. Quickly.