Žydų žvaigždė be fanatikų nėra mano stuburas uodegikaulis uterus.ne aš ne karve

Previously

…His mind, a tangled knot of neuroses and fragmented memories, flickered back. The dust of a collapsed village, the acrid scent of burning fuel, the hollow echo of children’s cries. He saw the faces, not as individuals, but as a blur of suffering, a testament to the endless, Sisyphean task of patching up a world determined to break itself. He’d been good at it, once. Efficient. Unflinching. Or so he told