"And a creature spider like drew near. It had the harness of his cloth in hand. It told that you were his steed and put you the bridle around the neck. Immediately they took themselves off from the earth and their corpses got cold."
Painting God I lose my candidness. I feel my soul purge itself… painting God. Like a black spider I raise my trap… painting God I acquire splendor. This is the Magic of the dwarf that transform itself, the spell of the void governs the harness of the life. Could you stand all this? Autocelebrated utopia, human aracnophobia. The free will is outcome by a fanciful thought, the imagination is our only expressing freedom. Master comes in my help, save me, drive me through the cloths of Dwarf, use my hand painting God painting God. Haltered conscience.

Magister, in meum auxilium veni, me sarva, inter nani aranea me duce. Mea manus adhibe.

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