PISKVOR: JJ, spíš bych představoval něco takového :)
I brought my vehicle to a standstill to spare the life of a vagabond with unkempt beard, who lay prostate on the road in disheveled rags, mayhap praying to some vengeful gods, unbeknown to anyone but him, who had played a cruel game on the wasted years of his youth when he used to roam the wild jungles of the New World, hunting, alas, to no avail, for the cursed Aztec gold. I stepped out to inquire whether he needed any assistance. As I approached, he raised his head, solemnly, silently, with the slowness of tectonic plates colliding in a continental drift, and fixed his stare upon me. I stood petrified by the indigo blueness of his gaze that spoke stories of despair which reminded me of my own and brought to life the remembrance of things long past, but not quite long enough to cease haunting me in my dreams and in my nightmares. Oh humanity! But something else flickered behind the sorrow, like a tentacle of a monster dwelling off the coast of Norway, ancient Kraken of rage and hatred idling away on the sea bed, hidden by the fierce fury of a maelstrom, patiently biding his time. I felt a sudden pang of pain in my chest and fear gripped me and then coiled around me like a boa constrictor as she bites her prey and gently, almost lovingly tightens her deadly embrace. It was not fear for my mortal body, whose lecherous confines I have long since learned to abhor, but fear for the pitiful vestiges of my immortal soul and the last remnants of my sanity.