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Max Fry

Cards on the table (collection)

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Cards on the table

From the collection "Tales of Old Vilnius"

Stefan is always the first to know. And he calls me right away. And he says: "We should have a beer with you." And when it is impossible to get through to me, Stefan takes up the tambourine. And the rhythm of his beats conveys exactly the same thing.

Stefan knows I don't like beer. And that I'll come as fast as I can, he knows too.

Stefan always arrives before the appointed time. When I appear on Etmonu Street, he is already sitting in a bar on the corner, and his mug is half empty.

I sit down opposite and ask:

Stefan makes such a subtle movement with his eyebrows, as if they are shoulders, which he shrugged. Like, you know what's the point of talking.

I know of course. But there is always hope that this time Stefan just wanted to have a beer with me. As a normal living person with a normal living person, Christmas trees, why not. Because we haven’t seen each other for a long time, the mood is to hell, a lot of news and, for example, winter is on the nose. In just a measly four months.

But it is enough to look at his face to part with illusions. And not only with the current ones, but in general with everyone. Once and for all.

Here and now.

... - Somehow often lately, - I say. And I take out a tobacco pouch.

When I'm human, I smoke. Especially when I am a person who is nervous, so much so that he wants to immediately disperse into the wind. That is, to return to your natural state. An almost irresistible temptation. And tobacco helps to keep the desired shape. Actually, it is for the convenience of people like us that it grows on this planet. When they smoke normal people who, with all their desire, can’t get away from their human form, it looks terribly funny, ridiculous and even cute. It is as if a fish has installed a bathtub at the bottom and takes it regularly.

“Often,” Stefan agrees. - This is the second time this year. It used to be easier. Will you have beer?

My human body shakes his head negatively. It, as already mentioned, does not like beer. However, my rebellious spirit says:

- Okay, come on.

At this point, he is already so rebellious that he sincerely believes: the worse, the better. And right to a certain extent.

“I'm sorry,” Stefan says.

He speaks the truth. He wouldn't be sorry. It would be much easier for Stefan if he could manage on his own. But he can't. And no one at all.

I really can't either. But there is no one but me.

“Come on,” I say, sipping my beer.

It's pretty nasty, as beer should be. Nothing, I'll be patient.

“It’s not fair,” Stefan says. - How to live, so all together, but how to die - so you are always alone.

Since the art of ingenious eyebrow movement is not available to me, I just have to raise one of them in annoyance. And twist your mouth. And throw up your hands. Say, I would gladly cede this duty to anyone else, but there's nothing to be done, such a stupid alignment, okay, I'll manage somehow.

Lots of pointless nonsense. But I can't leave him unanswered.

Stefan and I are silent for a while. We just drink beer and smoke. Because everything has already been said so many times that we have nothing to add. The only thing we can do is to prolong the happy moment a little, while we are alive and together, sitting at the same table.

Then Stefan gets up and leaves. And I remain in the bar on Etmonu with an almost full mug of beer and a bright white sunny horror that surrounds me from all sides. Not because I'm so scared - although, of course, scared. However, in this case, the white solar horror is not a feeling that gripped me, but an objectively existing external factor, something like daylight or, conversely, darkness.

For me, objectively existing. And for Stefan. And more, perhaps, for no one. Bye.

Nyohisi should never be told about this. Not even because such news will spoil his mood - that is, not as usual, to cracks in freshly painted walls and hailstones the size of wild yellow plums, but really, seriously, for a long time will deteriorate, and this in itself can be a disaster. , the consequences of which you will not disentangle in a year, even if he disentangles, that is, he himself will correct.

But something else is much worse. Nyohisi is still too powerful. Which in itself, given his character, inclinations and intentions, is just fine. But that is why everything that Nyohisi pays attention to immediately acquires additional power, meaning and meaning. Once I experienced it in my own skin, I know what I'm talking about.

But there was a man as a man. Well, almost.

In general, about the shining solar horror that is now approaching me from all sides, Nyohisi should not know anything. While from his point of view there is no horror at all, neither “white”, nor “sunny”, nor “night”, nor “gray-brown-crimson”, it is much easier to deal with this scourge.

Although it's still impossible.

That's why I forget about Nyohisi. Quite as if it never existed. And if I become so weak in spirit that I can’t help but remember, okay, I’ll remember what to do. As, for example, they remember a dream they had once in childhood.

I really don't like to forget it. But there's nothing you can do. Until I remember that Nyohisi exists in the world, he will not be able to know that I am in trouble and come to the rescue; it always works that way with spirits, deities and just friends, not just him. It's damn sad, but right now it's exactly what we need. With white solar horror, you should be alone and cope on your own.

In fact, this, of course, is not “horror”. And it became “white”, “sunny” for me only because of the current clear weather. Today, right now, I call this phenomenon so. It used to be called something else. And then I'll think of something else. The main thing is to never repeat yourself, even in your thoughts. Not that the name is really such an important thing that it necessarily gives the named object some additional power. But it's still better not to risk it.

Stefan left the beer money on the table. I add some small change for tea and get up from the table. While I remember who I am and what I'm going to do, I need to have time to climb onto the roof.

It's not as easy as it seems, our townspeople love to lock their doors, gates, gates and attics, but I was lucky, my old friend Eglė lives in the next house. Rather, she works, she has a small beauty parlor in the attic at the very top; however, it doesn't matter. It is important that she made a copy of the entrance key for me. I explained that sometimes it is absolutely necessary for me to sit on the roof somewhere in the heart of the Old City, and not on my own river bank, where nothing can be seen from the roof except the trees surrounding the house and the colorful neighbor's sheets fluttering in the wind. It is necessary, period. For inspiration, for example.

Inspiration, from Egle's point of view, is a serious enough reason to let a person go to the roof. She thinks I'm an artist. However, I really was once. Or he just made up as if he was, but since I myself believe in it, everything is honest.

In general, now I have a key to the entrance. And a screwdriver in my pocket to pry open the skylight leading to the attic. And the will, so that, trembling at the very last moment, already on the threshold, not to run away to the ends of the world, but calmly enter and climb up, having overcome fifty-seven steps - all there is.

I am sitting on the roof of a three-story building on Etmonu Street and forgetting myself.

In fact, after I forgot Nyohisi, forgetting myself is easy as well. Without him, I am so crushingly small that there is nothing to talk about.

Another difficult thing is to continue to live after I forget.

Actually, this is precisely what the so-called “white solar horror” consists of. Life without self-remembering. Or rather, about the meaning - its own. And about the meaning of everything else. And that it - my everything else - is at least somewhere.

It's impossible to explain what it is. But I'll try anyway. For the impossible - this is for me.

The thing is, our city is an obsession. A very reliable obsession, convincing everyone around, including himself, or almost, as if, like all other cities, it was created by human hands from ordinary building materials- brick, stone, glass, boards, tiles, concrete and what else is supposed to be built from.

That's from all of this.

But such craftiness, of course, does not at all prevent the city from remaining alive, fluid and changeable, as befits any normal obsession. On the contrary, it helps. Credibility is the most important part of the game he started.

Books"/>

Max Frei is known not only as the creator of the longest-running and most popular series in the history of Russian fantasy, but also as the author of many collections of short stories that balance on the verge of magical and metarealism. The cards on the table are a kind of summing up the results of the author's many years of work in this direction. The collection includes stories from different years; the compiler assumes that their sum will reveal to the reader additional values each of the terms and will allow you to get a completely clear idea of the author's picture of the world. In Russian, cards on the table is a stable phrase meaning a demand to reveal one's secret intentions. And in the mouths of gamblers, this phrase sounds when it no longer makes sense to hide your trump cards from rivals. And the truth is, what is there to hide.

Author	Book	Description	Year	Price	book type
Agatha Christie		Even the most seemingly insignificant detail does not escape the attention of Hercule Poirot, an expert in detective work. In the novel `Cards on the Table`, he calculates the killer by analyzing the record of players' accounts in ... - Centerpolygraph, (format: 84x108 / 32, 608 pages) All Hercule Poirot	2000	230	paper book
Fry Max		Max Fry is known not only as the creator of the longest-running and most popular TV series in the history of Russian fantasy, but also as the author of many collections of short stories teetering on the edge... - Times (AST), (format: 84x108/32, 832 pages) The worlds of Max Frey	2016	67	paper book
Max Fry		Max Fry is known not only as the creator of the longest-running and most popular series in the history of Russian fantasy, but also as the author of many collections of short stories balancing on the edge ... - AST, (format: 84x108/32, 480 pages)	2016	360	paper book
Max Fry		Max Fry is known not only as the creator of the longest-running and most popular series in the history of Russian fantasy, but also as the author of many collections of short stories balancing on the edge ... - AST, (format: 84x108/32, 480 pages) The worlds of Max Frey	2016	92	paper book
Max Fry		Max Frei is known not only as the creator of the longest-running and most popular series in the history of Russian fantasy, but also as the author of many collections of short stories balancing on the edge ... - (format: 84x108 / 32 (130x200 mm), 480 pages) The worlds of Max Frey	2016	234	paper book
Agatha Christie, James Hadley Chase	Cards on the table. Trap	Agatha Christie's book CARDS ON THE TABLE is a classic example of a task novel: it is no coincidence that the writer calls this story one of the most interesting investigations of Hercule Poirot. Mysterious foreigner… - Ariadna, JV "Lesinvest, LTD", (format: 130x205, 318 pages)	1993	180	paper book
Agatha Christie, James Chase	Cards on the table. Trap	We bring to your attention a collection of detective stories by famous writers Maps on the table and the Trap - Ariadna, JV "Lesinvest, LTD", (format: 84x108 / 32, 320 pages)	1991	140	paper book
Max Fry	Cards on the table (collection)	Max Fry is known not only as the creator of the longest and most popular series in the history of Russian fantasy, but also as the author of many collections of short stories balancing on the edge ... - AST Publishing House, (format: 84x108 / 32 (130x200 mm), 480 pages) e-book	2016	199	eBook
E. C. Bentley, Dorothy Sayers, Agatha Christie	English detective. Trent's last case. Whose corpse? Cards on the table	The collection includes works belonging to the best examples of the detective genre. Edmund K. Bentley - Trent's Last Case. The author dedicated this book to G. Chesterton, who recognized the novel as one of the best ... - Lenizdat, (format: 84x108 / 32, 448 pages)	1992	140	paper book
Agatha Christie	Brilliant cyanide. Cards on the table. Villa White horse. Life for the salvation of the son	The reader who is familiar with the work of the queen of the detective - Agatha Christie, will enjoy the novels included in the collection - Book House, (format: 84x108 / 32, 832 pages)	1998	409	paper book
E. C. Bentley, Dorothy Sayers, Agatha Christie	Trent's last case. Whose corpse? Cards on the table	The collection includes works belonging to the best examples of the detective genre. Edmund K. Bentley - Trent's Last Case. The author dedicated this book to G. Chesterton, who recognized the novel as one of the best ... - LENIZDAT, (format: 84x108 / 32mm, 448 pages)	1992	126	paper book

Fry, Max

Max Fry- literary pseudonym of the authors of the cycle of books about Echo. The cycle was co-written with and published under the pseudonym "Max Fry". It tells in the first person about the adventures of an ordinary, at first glance, young man in other worlds. Due to the fact that main character is at the same time the author of books (as explained in the Labyrinth of Menin - it took the hero to shift the burden of holding the world of Echo onto the shoulders of the Rulers of our world) - this is also a pseudonym.

The plot of the cycle is built on adventures mainly in the world of Exo, where he serves in an organization that controls the use of magic in accordance with the Khrember Code and the crimes committed with its help.

In the Echo Chronicles, a continuation of the Echo Labyrinths cycle, the action takes place in, created on. Each book in this series contains one narrated story from the life of the Secret Investigators.

Max Frei is also the subject of several other books that overlap indirectly with each other.

Sir Max- the protagonist of the book series and Max Fry. At about the age of 30, he met a sir in a dream. He offered him a job as his night deputy, which in all respects suited Max, since in this life he was not really arranged, in particular because he could never sleep at night - this was the time of his greatest activity. Therefore, Max accepted the offer of his interlocutor from a dream and moved to a city located in another world - where he became Juffin's deputy (officially his position is called the Night Face of Mr. Honorable Chief of the Secret Investigation of the City of Echo).

Max is so-called, that is, all his wishes come true with one caveat - "sooner or later, one way or another." A long time ago, trying to find a way to cheat death, he found a radical solution - he became an obsession and allowed everyone to invent himself again and again. In particular, Sir Dzhuffin invented him, along with his life in our world.

However, it is worth adding that this information is based only on the first books of the Echo Labyrinths series.

An alternative version of Max's story based on all the works of the author

Max_1- "real", single-born (traditional way), vagabond with 9 lives, photographer, essay writer, nakh.

Max_2- originally dead (a ghost?), received dead as a result of an accident, also an accident in a dark alley and a story with misanthropic photographer Max Fry. Since Max split in two after the accident, invented by the same Executors, until some time both Max had common memories and always dreams. Max_2 chronologically "alive" appears in the form of the ghost of the Waldefox villa. After awakening by the inhabitants of the villa, as a result of a seance, he settles in a city in the mountains.

Max_1, after visiting Frank in the villa, photographs his reflection, lives his own fate (the fate of his reflection in the mirror) using the Nakh method: “Sometimes I think: maybe I’m still standing there in front of a magic mirror, enjoying the diversity of my unfulfilled destinies, I shudder, anticipating the imminent end of all stories at once? . It is here that a kind of "loop of fate" is formed. Max_1 lives an unfulfilled fate in which he meets Michael, "officially" becomes a Nakh. In it, at the age of 32, he writes an essay about the death of literary characters, dies himself, resurrects (he has 9 lives), changes places with Max_2 in a city in the mountains. Max_2 becomes Max_1 - Nakh with the goal of surviving the day Max_1 died (in September). Max_2 becomes and "works" as a key keeper.

At the "same time" Max_1 becomes a ghost, locks himself in the living room of a house in a city in the mountains, lives at that time the unfulfilled life of Sir Max from Echo, using the "skills" of the nakh. Therefore, in the far corner of Sir Max's mind, another Max always lived - Max_1 - wise, calm and indifferent. Juffin says that he invented Max's past: his childhood and youth, but he himself is not sure of anything and says that Sir Max forced himself to invent it.

Max_2 successfully survives September, goes to the Waldefox villa, where he “reunites” with Max_1 or is “absorbed” by him, by that Max who was standing at the mirror. THE CIRCLE IS CLOSED, the loop is loosened, one of Max's impossible lives is over.

Max and the World of the Rod

However, I enjoyed with might and main - not so much even events and sensations, although among them many treasures were discovered that were previously unnoticed, or completely inaccessible to me, but the opportunity, no matter what happened, to remain in the role of an outside observer, while being not in someone else's someone else's skin, but in their own. He settled down in the dark, soft depths, like a padish in a palanquin; misfortunes, illnesses and sorrows almost did not touch me, because I never for a moment forgot about the illusory nature of the current existence, but in a happy moment no one prevented me from indulging in all serious things, enjoying plenty, from a pure heart, from a belly, as the one who got me said in this version of reality father-in-law.

Our World is already solid and reliable - how reliable can such a shaky thing as any inhabited world be. Now we can all be quite sure that we really exist.

Here it is important to realize the very nature of the Quiet City. Quiet City - the place of "life" of characters (mostly literary).

Here, in the City, there are those whose fate is somewhat similar to yours. Only you were invented by a sorcerer, and they are ordinary people, writers, eccentric gentlemen, whom, as a rule, no one takes seriously. Some, however, were so well thought out that the public fell in love with them. And the one who is loved very much, certainly becomes alive. At least here in Silent City. The local sages have many ideas about the nature of this place - oh, they would go crazy if they did not make it a rule once a day after dinner to come up with another explanation for the mystery of which they became a part! One theory I really like is that Quiet City is crazy about love. He loves his inhabitants and does everything to inspire us with love for himself - well, most of my acquaintances are really attached to this place, and I myself, to confess, too ... On the other hand, Quiet City is jealous, like Shakespeare's Moor, he owner and gentle tyrant, so it is impossible to leave here. And look how interesting it turns out: if the theory is correct and the City is really obsessed with love, there is nothing surprising in the fact that it helps to embody those fictional images that attract the love of the living ... Therefore, you have a chance to accidentally meet the character of your beloved on the street children's book.

Notes

About the book "Cards on the Table (compilation)" by Max Frei

Fans of the enigmatic Max Fry will love this collection. Although it contains many previously published stories, every reader will find a few unexpected novelties in it.

Max Frei is a collective image of the writer, under which Svetlana Martynchik and Igor Stepin are hiding. Under this pseudonym, the authors create novels and stories in the fantasy genre, combining metarealism and magic. A special, well-designed world, the author's irony allowed the author's works to receive rave reviews, attract an army of fans who do not miss a single Max's novelty.

The collection "Cards on the Table" in a peculiar way sums up the writer's many years of work, perhaps that is why it is titled with this phraseological unit denoting the disclosure of secret intentions when there is no longer any point in hiding one's trump cards.

The collection consists of 22 stories written by the writer in different years. Perhaps reading them in the order conceived by the publisher will allow us to discover a new meaning of what is happening in Fry's world, to better understand the author's ideas about the things around him. The collection "Cards on the Table" by Max Frey includes works previously published in the author's collection "Tales of Old Vilnius", which contains fantastic stories where the action takes place on the streets of old Vilnius. Vilnius occupies a special place in the works of the author, since the creator of Max, Svetlana Martynchik, has been living in Lithuania for many years. However, the Lithuanian origin of the stories does not prevent people from the homeland of Martynchik from finding close and understandable things in them.

And the collection "Tales and Stories", some of whose stories were also included in "Cards on the Table", consists of a variety of texts created in different years, including a calendar of events in the life of Max and practical advice beginner demiurges. In addition to the works published earlier in these two collections, the new collection of works by Max Fry includes stories from "Prokoty", "About Love and Death", "The Big Cart", the collections "Winds, Angels and People", "First Line". Among the new stories, for example, "The head and the lyre sailed on Hebrus", so fans of Fry's work are unlikely to be able to refuse such a gift.

The book will be a great gift for people who have not read Max Fry. It will help you look at seemingly familiar things from a new perspective.

The collection "Cards on the table" includes:
01. Cards on the table ("Tales of old Vilnius - IV")
02. What color are your dances (“Tales of Old Vilnius – II”)
03. They lived in tents, washed themselves with beads ("Tales of Old Vilnius - II")
04. Krakow Demon ("Big Cart")
05. From scraps, from rags ("Winds, angels and people")
06. Sweet Plum ("Second Line")
07. Cutlet ("Prokotikov")
08. Carlson, who ("Tales of Old Vilnius - I")
09. Don't say anything ("Winds, Angels and People")
10. Geshechka (“On Love and Death”)
11. Hide and Seek ("Tales and Stories")
12. Everyone would like so ("Winds, angels and people")
13. When the saints march ("Big Cart")
14. Conversation in German ("Tales of old Vilnius - III")
15. River Ameles, reckless ("Tales of old Vilnius - IV")
16. Elena's Cat ("On Love and Death")
17. All the gold is expensive ("Big Cart")
18. The most beautiful consul in the world ("Winds, Angels and People")
19. From the point of view of a goat ("First Line")
20. Strenzhyrs inzynayt ("About love and death")
21. Head and lyre sailed on Gebr
22. Hava Shimali, Hava Janubi ("Tales of Old Vilnius - III")

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Max Fry

Cards on the table

From the collection "Tales of Old Vilnius"

Stefan knows I don't like beer. And that I'll come as fast as I can, he knows too.

Stefan always arrives before the appointed time. When I appear on Etmonu Street, he is already sitting in a bar on the corner, and his mug is half empty.

I sit down opposite and ask:

Stefan makes such an imperceptible movement of his eyebrows, as if they are shoulders, which he shrugged. Like, you know what's the point of talking.

But it is enough to look at his face to part with illusions. And not only with the current ones, but in general with everyone. Once and for all.

Here and now.

... - Somehow often lately, - I say. And I take out a tobacco pouch.

When I'm human, I smoke. Especially when I am a person who is nervous, so much so that he wants to immediately disperse into the wind. That is, to return to your natural state. An almost irresistible temptation. And tobacco helps to keep the desired shape. Actually, it is for the convenience of people like us that it grows on this planet. When normal people smoke, who can’t get away from their human form with all their desire, it looks terribly funny, ridiculous and even cute. It is as if a fish has installed a bathtub at the bottom and takes it regularly.

Often, Stefan agrees. - This is the second time this year. It used to be easier. Will you have beer?

My human body shakes its head negatively. It, as already mentioned, does not like beer. However, my rebellious spirit says:

Okay, come on.

At this point, he is already so rebellious that he sincerely believes: the worse, the better. And right to a certain extent.

I'm sorry, Stefan says.

He speaks the truth. He wouldn't be sorry. It would be much easier for Stefan if he could manage on his own. But he can't. And no one at all.

I really can't either. But there is no one but me.

Come on, I say, sipping my beer.

It's pretty nasty, as beer should be. Nothing, I'll be patient.

It's not fair, Stefan says. - How to live, so all together, but how to die - so you are always alone.

Lots of pointless nonsense. But I can't leave him unanswered.

Stefan and I are silent for a while. We just drink beer and smoke. Because everything has already been said so many times that we have nothing to add. The only thing we can do is to prolong the happy moment a little while we are alive and together, sitting at the same table.

For me, objectively existing. And for Stefan. And more, perhaps, for no one. Bye.

But there was a man as a man. Well, almost.

Although it's still impossible.

That's why I forget about Nyohisi. Quite as if it never existed. And if I become so weak in spirit that I can’t help but remember - okay, I’ll remember what to do. As, for example, they remember a dream they had once in childhood.

Stefan left the beer money on the table. I add some small change for tea and get up from the table. While I remember who I am and what I'm going to do, I need to have time to climb onto the roof.

I am sitting on the roof of a three-story building on Etmonu Street and forgetting myself.

In fact, after I forgot Nyohisi, forgetting myself is easy as well. Without him, I am so crushingly small that there is nothing to talk about.

Another thing is difficult - to continue to live after I forget.

Actually, this is precisely what the so-called “white solar horror” consists of. Life without self-remembering. More truly, about sense - the. And about the meaning of everything else. And that it - my everything else - is at least somewhere.

It's impossible to explain what it is. But I'll try anyway. For the impossible - this is for me.

The thing is, our city is an obsession. A very reliable obsession, everyone around, including himself, convinced, or almost, as if, like all other cities, it was created by human hands from ordinary building materials - brick, stone, glass, boards, tiles, concrete and what else is supposed to be built from there .

That's from all of this.

The bridge between the existing and the impossible, triumphing over both, uniting them into an indissoluble whole - that is what our city is. That is why it is so easy to breathe here. Therefore, the boundaries of different realities, times, destinies and opportunities converge here. Therefore, here ordinary human speech, bird chirping and the howling of the wind sometimes turn into magic spells, rivers can flow in all directions at once, fictional creatures come to life, dreams materialize, unthinkable things happen, and spirits, angels, monsters and other lost wanderers come here when they want to play a simple fun life - drink coffee, chat with each other, walk the streets, get burned by ordinary fire, freeze in the winter wind, get hungry, laugh so that their legs can't hold, fall in love, kick as hell and bawl songs all night long, if impatient, why not.

From the collection "Tales of Old Vilnius"

Stefan knows I don't like beer. And that I'll come as fast as I can, he knows too.

I sit down opposite and ask:

Stefan makes such an imperceptible movement of his eyebrows, as if they are shoulders, which he shrugged. Like, you know what's the point of talking.

But it is enough to look at his face to part with illusions. And not only with the current ones, but in general with everyone. Once and for all.

Here and now.

When I'm human, I smoke. Especially when I am a person who is nervous, so much so that he wants to immediately disperse into the wind. That is, to return to your natural state. An almost irresistible temptation. And tobacco helps to keep the desired shape. Actually, it is for the convenience of people like us that it grows on this planet. When normal people smoke, who can’t get away from their human form with all their desire, it looks terribly funny, ridiculous and even cute. It is as if a fish has installed a bathtub at the bottom and takes it regularly.

Often, Stefan agrees. - This is the second time this year. It used to be easier. Will you have beer?

My human body shakes its head negatively. It, as already mentioned, does not like beer. However, my rebellious spirit says:

Okay, come on.

At this point, he is already so rebellious that he sincerely believes: the worse, the better. And right to a certain extent.

I'm sorry, Stefan says.

He speaks the truth. He wouldn't be sorry. It would be much easier for Stefan if he could manage on his own. But he can't. And no one at all.

I really can't either. But there is no one but me.

Come on, I say, sipping my beer.

It's pretty nasty, as beer should be. Nothing, I'll be patient.

It's not fair, Stefan says. - How to live, so all together, but how to die - so you are always alone.

Lots of pointless nonsense. But I can't leave him unanswered.

Stefan and I are silent for a while. We just drink beer and smoke. Because everything has already been said so many times that we have nothing to add. The only thing we can do is to prolong the happy moment a little while we are alive and together, sitting at the same table.

For me, objectively existing. And for Stefan. And more, perhaps, for no one. Bye.

But something else is much worse. Nyohisi is still too powerful. Which in itself, given his character, inclinations and intentions, is just fine.

Max fry cards on the table read online. Book Cards on the table (collection) read online. Other books on similar topics

Other books on similar topics:

Fry, Max

An alternative version of Max's story based on all the works of the author

Max and the World of the Rod

Notes

Links

About the book "Cards on the Table (compilation)" by Max Frei

Free download of the book "Cards on the table (collection)" by Max Frei

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Max fry cards on the table read online. Book Cards on the table (collection) read online. Other books on similar topics

Other books on similar topics:

Fry, Max

An alternative version of Max's story based on all the works of the author

Max and the World of the Rod

Notes

Links

About the book "Cards on the Table (compilation)" by Max Frei

Free download of the book "Cards on the table (collection)" by Max Frei

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