I saw on the way, in Pompeii, I was at 160 and he walked down the street, naked, filthy, with a beard that looked like cotton mixed with glue . Age difficult to estimate, maybe if you take off the beard and dirt and marks hardness (Metaphorical and otherwise) that cover the skin, we would find a man of forty, or fifty, or sixty, who knows. Paraba
the cars and asked them silver, whatever the answer, he shouted "I am Jesus, I am Jesus!" I assumed that it is doing this for a long time, because the cry had no pain or anger or despair or anything. Around
still there. It was four hours, but the man was walking down the street, stopping cars and shouting that is Jesus.
The shock was so unexpected and violent that I saw just what happened: the car that was ahead of my 160 is worn low barrier, and the train was put the car. Firefighters said there was nothing to be done. The car driver was dead.
I, who had fallen from 160 to miss the crowd to the morbid curiosity and had not killed but seduced, I saw that the man claiming to be Jesus had come too, and stood beside me, looking in the car. Then I looked fixed, just in case, to see if he saw in his face a tiny sign of someone who does a miracle (frowning in concentration, X-ray eyes, I dunno, something), and a fireman suddenly exclaimed " Time is not dead, breathe! "but nothing happened.
The next time I'll give you a coin.
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