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I hear a grey horse snorting. In the saddle I see the rider, a sharpshooter, strong on course. I see a country empty and wild. With all its infrastructures destroyed, unserviceable. I see a king trying to duck away, too late. I see a deadly red stain in the middle of his snow-white blouse.

I see a farmer with hair frizzing wildly in all directions. I see him standing on a cultivated land before an empty harvest.  I see a cross on a church’s nock.  Sticky, red-brown blood is dripping from it. Next to it there is a state leader standing, with a pitch-black hat. In a strange request he asks God to curse the entire world.

I see masses milling and swarming. Governments shout: Under Martial law, all of you must now shut up. I see a man, tall, dark, and balmy. A bullet spatters from his rifle. It breaks the sound barrier and reaches its goal. This death is meant for a high-profile world leader. Between various nations it now becomes cold, unfriendly, and chilly. Yes, I hear a horse snorting and then I listen to much coughing. In unprecedented famine, worldwide it is going wild. Look, one after the next harvest now fails.