for Jim ….(всё что видите, было спланировано + сканер ….)
When the still sea conspires an armor And her sullen and aborted Currents breed tiny monsters
True sailing is dead Awkward instant And the first animal is jettisoned Legs furiously pumping
Their stiff green gallop And heads bob up Poise Delicate Pause Consent In mute nostril agony
Carefully refined And sealed over. Jim Morrison .