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I'm not a robot

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From the author: Every fourth adult citizen of Russia is on a credit needle... Truly, few people know that evil as such does not have its own existence, but always only good detraction. So the light, as it moves away from the source, first creates day, then twilight, and then pitch darkness. There are saints, there are ordinary people whose holiness has been halved, and there are villains in whom there is almost nothing sacred left. Hell is nothing more than a black, crooked and unsteady reflection of heaven in the abyss. Abandon hope, everyone who enters here... Here they are - the unbearably sparkling gates of the financial underworld. Raised 90 cubits. They opened their chilling jaws wide. Decorated with gems, lovely pictures and demonic writings. And in those pictures there are cheerful girls and rich mansions. And in those letters they lie sweetly and oh well. They say, borrow money from us right now and live an important and happy life like a boyar. And you don’t have to give it back right away, but only after five years. When will it last, maybe the white light won’t last that long! And the percentages are small, small, less. And if you’re delayed, it won’t matter! Let’s get into the situation - we’ll restructure. Only at the very, very top is a small, half-erased note: “*Abandon hope, everyone...” But those who flock to the gate in crowds don’t see it. But they do not hear the alarming rustle of flying angels and the contented laughter of demons. They don’t feel how the credit hell is sucking out their soul drop by drop. The Providence of Satan Human souls are drawn to the heavenly light. Like the stars of heaven, they hunger for happiness. And the devil is right there. He spread his crafty nets like a whirlpool of credit under his feet. And in that pool the stars are reflected. It seems very close. Take a step, grab handfuls of the shimmering swell, and here it is - happiness! Only then did you find yourself, like chickens, in a plucked hen. Because there is no bottom to the financial abyss. For it is chimerical to own things and pleasures on credit. It does not bring true joy, but gives strength and soul into slavery to the enemy of the human race and his hangers-on - moneylenders and money changers. Thus - loan by loan, soul by soul, link by link - the lead chain of the kingdom of hell is forged. On envy, greed and human arrogance, on piles of loan contracts, a strong, underground city is maturing - Black Jerusalem. And in the middle of it, in the deepest hole, Mammon the King rules on the throne, burning his personal brand into the souls of debtors. With the animal brand of al-jabra To prevent a person from escaping, from breaking free from the oblivion of the financial underworld, he is first branded, just as any new convict is branded before being sent to the ruined mines. The demonic number of the loan agreement is burned into the soul. By the dark sorcery of al-jabra they impose an animal number - an interest rate. And the sufferer is no longer alive. From that moment he was imprisoned in a hidden, dead world. Everything he earns through hard work and intelligence flows through the stigma of interest to Mammon. All dreams, good aspirations and strength go there. And the soul would like to be cleansed, to be nourished with reason, to bring goodness and light to those near and far, but it has no will. For there is no real life in a credit prison. There is no taste in food, no spirit in incense, no sound and meaning in music and speech. Until all the deadlines have been chosen, until the debt has not been repaid a hundredfold, the convicts are moping about the grief - puffing up, fussing, thinking as if they are living. And so that the flock multiplies, does not scatter, and remains in ignorance, special shepherds are placed over it. Shepherds of the unforgiven: the entire army of Lucifer. Seducing sirens are maidens with a beautiful face and a black heart. They sit modestly in the corners of shops with expensive, lovely goods. As soon as they see in their eyes that a person has a strong desire, but has nothing to pay with, they immediately pour sweet poison into the ears about credit. Moneylenders - these locums of Mammon are found in white-stone chambers. Like shepherds from a hill, they watch the herds of their debtors on magical screens. Yes, the ladies count. Collectors are dogs who don’t let the herd scatter. They bark and sometimes even bite to make fun of them. The bitter gift of an angel And in the financial underworld it can!!!

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