A Peice of Paper Came out of My Nostril

I had always thought that if paper ever came out of my nostril, it would come out slowly. Kind of like ooze. But no, when the day finally came, the paper flew out like a bullet, bounced, and hit me in the eye. Rubbing my eye, I picked up the paper and unrolled it.

I had been staring at batteries when the incident occured. This is crucial.

Anyway, I unrolled the paper slowly, warily, as if what it contained would not be to my liking.

The paper had a message written on it, in a light pink handwriting:

Estimates, industrial creature. This here is the submission of reports of his conscience. K qu'? ; ; speak now, when l'? ; will the ignorant cause l'? ; ; ; It will often declare l'? ; ignorance, this good religion at times, but lamps/abrupt increases [S.A hammer? nmim as that he is ugly soufflé - in the cover it is swallowed in all concrete thoughts and concrete wissbegierde. Information is almost often shattered under roles of life of one day. But good in a relative sense squiggle from the bolt from the decomposition. This s'? it remembers [apomakrynmenos] more this.

"There are so many languages in the world," I said, as I slowly rolled the paper back up, "When you try to translate something in to every language, its original meaning is lost. So you have to either stick with your own language, or learn to read nonsense." I sensed something in what I had just said. I reread the paper. Then I picked it up and stuck it back in to my nose. I stuck a battery in to my other nostril.

Things haven't been quite the same since that day. But I try.

Apomakrynmenos.

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