One hides itself. Does in such a way, as if it would sleep behind its magazine. The moon comes up degrees over the mountains. It wakes up and looks on the fields raus. Nebendran sleeps a Farmer. Leaned to its wife. It thinks more drueber, wie's continues. The bus drives to the south, purely to Washington DC. A nut/mother with child, two months old perhaps. She it now which to eat will give, then falls asleep he. The shade of the Capitol slides over the Geischt of the boy. Its heart pumps, wants to have liberty. Finally. The father sits there, as from stone in accordance with ice ELT. Hirt of its herd. The bus drives now to the west, to Dallas. Over Little skirt. It reads the letter again: Sal, my favourite. The moon over the desert is my witness. I do not have enough money, in order to come to the east coast. But I know that you are soon with me. The bus drives past now after Dallas purely, at the Grassy Knoll. There Kennedy had died at that time, which almost draufgegangen city. No more life, no feeling. For many years. He hears music. And someone Spanish speaks. In Tucson is the border patrol course-rose. Foreigner here in it? Better directly announce. Which with you, boy. You look in such a way. Spanish blood. Habla Ingles? Understands? Yes. I am a stranger. I come from Mars. Directly from Mars to the earth. And even if I my whole life on the escape be, it chap become me still run. But its fear, which it cannot leave anywhere. It remembers on at that time. At each pass. To the cry. And to the wind. Phantome in the dust cloud behind the bus.