In the nineth month of the year one of the first century of the third millenium

One black day, I was forced to turn my back away from the light.

I was in the mythical cave and could see before me a screen on a wall on which pictures flashed across.
I was suddenly frightened and in a bad mood. I felt my first pains.

I called out for the maïeutics and this mid-wife came running to my bed side and explained to me what was happening.
I understood that what was flashing before my eyes was reality and what was behind me was fiction from which reality came.

My hair stood up on end and I started beating my donkey skin with my four hooves. In front of this horrific sight, I didn't know whether to give birth to evil words or the evilness of words. So that, I felt thirsty for goodness.

During the painfulness of giving birth, the mid-wife quenched me with comfort by telling me that their film states had put-off making its film industry of horror and terror.
I thought of my offsprings who wouln't have to endure swallowing pictures of fiction that bring evil about.

I would love the film industry to stop violating man's imagination.
With this slightly soothing idea, I was able to protect myself from suffering too much. So, this is what my delivrance was:
Please, don't make wars.
The donkey driver goes back to the well

Il ne faut pas faire la guerre