I'm sick of people being bad with each other. I fed up with the distress in the world which I feel and hear everyday. There is too much. It's like I'm stuck with glass pieces on my head. Do you understand? Big guy John Coffey fell asleep.
Faint squeals were heard from his liver, which was cut off from coughing. She was waiting for her execution and feared being buried in the dark rather than death. He lived in the dark. In an insincere and decadent world, a huge body with a big body covered a lot of loneliness.
The Green Way! He was grassy, blossomed, gravitational, as if asphalt was not touched. For every man who thinks that he sometimes puts a green road as many kilometers, sometimes as bristles. And sometimes you want to find that way, you want to go down the road or you're such a traveler who doesn't know you.
Yes there was too much pain, there is still. It's not gonna end, Coffey! I live in a Middle Eastern country. One side is burning. It's not a chemical reaction like that. You know, if you say we like the internal combustion engine and the engine is powering the knee.
When someone dies, you're feeling fucked up with your personality and your conscience. Good mankind doesn't come to carry the bag of old people at the market. Then you think we're a crowd of 6 digits when we gather 1-1, no valla! It's probably 3, but we're not math. We are materialists.
