By the way, the name Katurian, I assume, originates from Saturn, which is the Roman translation of Kronos, in other words, time. And I, a silent thoughtful Katurian in the interrogation room, the one, who sits at the bed of little Katurian and feels united with his former self, the one, who in a few minutes will be shot in the forehead for the crime of premeditated art, that he consciously committed, I realize, that I am the sand, I am the dead dragon sitting on the windowsill of the kitchen, I am like everyone can be (in respect to Herr Schopenhauer, I underline here, that being united with the universe and feeling the soul of God in every cell of your body is optional, not a must at all). Go 25, go 27!