@Gianna96 8 October 2022 more from that month

Dreams are astrologer in pieces on an untidy table; The ashes of the burnt house flew in the astrologer. The dust giggled and covered him, who was just putting away his dreams in a cup of tea; He is now like a defaced statue of old. In the third watch of the night, the haunted poets cry out in hoarse voices, not because their manuscripts are being burned, but because the faces of the citizens are constantly shedding their own human skins and taking on the form of strange creatures.