Queen's Lover
The bells were striking and a teeming crowd were cheering and stinking awfully. A body of unfortunate man scattered around among bare feet. Behind the place of torment, in the inn, a priest was stuffing some meat and blessed wine was dripping from his beard. His fatty hands were roaming on the hills of the rich noblewoman who was very devote, of course. They were laughing to tears. A hangman changed his clothes and as a normal townsman rushed to the market to waste money which had been splashed with blood, a bribe for a quick death. Going away from the rotten reality, I stepped on the bridge of sorrow, alone, to look deeply into his eyes and to tell him that I am sorry. The bridge was very long, wooden, full of decayed boards, very dangerous to walk across. Along the both sides of it, there were two rows of stilts and on them there was much of rotten remains. The smell of death arose in the air. In the middle of the bridge, on the left, there was a gathering of black, enormous crows da