Scythia... The energy of the plain from Persia to the Danube - the sun shining on the back of the head and the foot standing on the dry snake skin. Where do griphons, the citizens of the southern steppe, hide by day? I don’t know if they build nests or find holes, if females lay eggs or bear nestlings? Darius has left his Pasargadae and moves among his immortal regiments - the plain is resigned. The sun burns weak ones, the outer energy dissapears, only bloody rust is left on the dry grass - the Scythian war. The external does not meet any barriers, but the road is endless and becomes a barrier itself.

Bonaparte after his victory spends hours in the Kremlin, the heat changes to frost and finishes off the last ones. Darius escapes and loses 600 thousands lifes in the burnt steppe - yes, the Greek increased this number, but they were not killed by the arrows: the griphon has many faces and it is amorphous for it is irreal. Convulsions of the fuhrer-fanatic lead to an all-out war - woe is the defeated! The external runs out and the internal fills up the plain - for how long? There it is - says a nomad in the emptyness of horizon pointing at the goal that he only knows - he disappears in the dust and the plain is empty again...