You can feel a bit bewildered and lost. Or maybe disappointed, after all. You are looking for a cash point. You thought you had found it, had finally come to a place where you would be able to get some cash. The lack of cash points made you wonder and made you anxious. It could mean you had arrived to the kingdom of cash, because if there were no cash point then most probably there were no terminals in shops. Everywhere you would have to pay cash. You would have to use normal money. Banknotes. Coins. While you had kicked this habit. Probably you don't know any more what banknotes look like. If suddenly and unexpectedly you were asked to describe a banknote ...... if it was a subject of a composition being a part of a very important exam, then you would not pass this exam ..... or you got a question: what is on the front side of the twenty-franc bill? (I have used francs assuming you come from the land of francs, however you can come from the land of crowns or pounds or whatever, it doesn't matter at all) and this would be the last question in a quiz, and the right answer would make you the winner of one million, then you would not win one million of units (maybe francs), although such question seemed so simple, just the one any competitor might dream of ...... Oh, habit kicking! The other nature of humans ..... The third nature of humans?

But if there are no cash points here, if this is a kingdom or republic of cash, there should be at least one cash point – this is what you think because you think logically (if you have brought only plastic money you need to get cash somehow). However, there can be different logics and the one that has to be obeyed here (or pretends to be obeyed) not necessarily must be the one you use and obey.
A strange machine, isn't it? There's nothing it can be compared to. Maybe to a diminished blast [foundry] furnace. Or to an enlarged loom. It looks a little bit like a cement mixer of old type, although it does not rotate crunching and grinding horribly. It is also similar to a bathyscaphe - you never know, maybe you will have to look for some really rare shells on the sea bottom – it is also similar to a flying machine – you never know, maybe you will have to look for some very colourful feathers lost on the tops of high, proud, hostile mountains. It has some features common with a miniature refinery – or with very complicated devices from chemical laboratory – oh! even alchemistic! yes, certainly alchemistic – though it doesn't look fragile, like it could be easily broken to pieces with one careless hand swing: bottles, test tubes, measuring cylinders, flasks, spiral and straight glass and gum tubes ..... It is solid, reliable and robust. Even very solid. Entirely non-transparent. Well, it hides inside a mysterious mechanism. In fact it is just a huge box. Some holes, slits, feeder, viewers, inspection openings, keyboards, switches, bridges, cranks, handles, projecting wires, knobs, sliders, knots – almost like this monstrous primordial computer having the size of a whole room or even whole building . . . . . . . . So, it is an inputing-outputing, devouring-vomiting machine. Like every other machine. It may be called monoprint. However it doesn't have to be named – it can be a machine without name. There are some no-name machine and no-name devices. But if it is called monoprint then the first four letters would have nothing to do with monophonic, monotype, monograph or monoculture (well, as usually “nothing” is an exaggeration, but it's hard to tell how big) – while it would have everything to do with money, because such combination of letters stands in a certain language for money (of course “everything” is an exaggeration, too). The combination of five other letters is clear and doesn't need to be explained. According to the name it should be a machine for printing money, however it would not print normal banknotes, francs, pounds, crowns or whatever, because they are but unreadable illegible notes (maybe even illegal – who knows?). If it used to print these kind of notes, it wouldn't have to be so complex. While it has to be very complex, extremely complex, since it never knows what it will have to print. Nor what material will be used for printing. It's highly unpredictable what's coming to someone's head, what ideas and visions one would like to make real – although it's highly supposable that nobody would like to cut a pretty wise quotation in marble plates (how would they carry them? how big wallets or purses would they have? how deep pockets?) such a possibility can not be excluded. Surprising, isn't it? You say: “somebody would like” what means “I would like”? Yes, this means you have to print your own money. They can be called libers, but they can have any other name: haiku, waka, sonnet, poem, rapasa, leporello, trilogy, nine-volume-novel >>>>> they can have various names or no names at all. Their value will not depend on their names, nor on gold or any other metal parity. Their value will depend on a story they tell ..... And if I have nothing to tell? if I can't imagine any story? if I would like and wish and want nothing at all or nothing extraordinary or extravagant because I'm just a moron or I'm not a poet or in this very moment my mind is empty, what shall I do then? - you will ask. And I will answer: nothing.
But if you don't find within yourself even the most trifle idea you can use to create something, you can always find something good for exchanging. And if you would like to make such an exchange you have to leave this place.
<<<<<<
You can also pawn something. Or take a credit. If so, don't stay here. Go!
>>>>>>
Lazily.
Casually.
As if dancing.
Softly.
Lurking like a cat.
Stalking.
Groping.
In panic.
. . . . .
a story has come to my mind ..... no no no it hasn't come ..... how could? it has been in my mind all the time – it has been cruising rambling roving all around my skull .... how could? one day it appeared in my mind - I was not born with it - - - - - - I didn't read it in any of the books I read although with no doubt I would find plenty of similar stories in plenty of books - - - - people like wandering across and around the world and they think what happen to them what they experience is one of a kind is unique and nobody before and after had and will have such adventures while they are just typical stories hardly distinguishable maybe only due to the level of intensity or blurriness - - - - - - - . . . . . . - . - . - dots or dashes? dots or dashes? why not comas? with no doubt no comas - - - comas are like grass while this was neither prairie nor steppe – this was hilly semi-desert maybe even three-fourths-desert sometimes seven-ninths-desert - - in some places only two-fifths-desert . . . . . where tufts of dried grasses used to assemble - - - - - comas are not like grass blades – upside down comas would be like grass blades - - - - - - - wads of banknotes like bunches of flowers like armfuls of weeds torn out from the barren dry ground - - they used these wads like fans – it was already hot but the world just began to melt down - - - - no – the world was not melting down - - distant mountains and hills were standing still beyond some houses don't tremble don't move don't soar don't float don't pretend to be vanishing mist – mountains were mountains they had sharp outlines they were reddish greyish blueish yellowish they were motley although soft and pastel . . . . . . . thoughts were melting down – soaring and circulating all around the skull more and more slowly more and more sticky more and more thick – the skull being more and more like a kettle with boiling tar – gentle bubbling more like convection process ceaseless rising up and down masses moving constantly whirling slowly and lazily some bubbles exploding soundlessly on the surface - - - - - - - what did they folded and unfolded spread and unspread the fans of motley banknotes for? they were walking along the platform giving sings and signals – tempting – beguiling – luring – convinced the code they used was absolutely universal and global and easily understood by those who got a place in the train and those who kept fighting to get it - - - or maybe they simply were inviting us to take part in a game – to play cards – banknotes are sort of cards aren't they? – a banknote is quite thin sheet of paper supple but strong and durable - - too supple too flexible to play with it – a wad of banknotes is not a deck of cards – can't be shuffled - - but can be cut can be dealt can be exchanged . . . . . . . . . they wanted to exchange – most probably they wanted to exchange banknotes – this was the point of their game – this game was simpler than any other card game even simpler than to play pig or war or shitshack . . . . . . . . but our thoughts kept melting down our heads kept boiling our skulls kept changing into kettles full of tar – our heads: the heads of those who didn't use to wrap them with pale colour rags that formed kind of chaotic coils although in fact they were really very sophisticated constructions that needed just a few skilled moves to be built up - - - we were to cross the border soon – one country was to end while another was to begin . . . . . . and finally the train started though it looked like it didn't like to start at all – how many times you can roll across the same hilly country no matter how subtle and beautiful and delicate water colour painting it was . . . . . . and maybe during the part of the day when there are no shadows for they are tired and horrified and as usually hid themselves under our feet: on one side there were barbed wire entanglements soldiers guns machine guns while on the other side there was nothing – it looked as if the soldiers were there to defend desperately and with all their forces this country this state against the nothing nothingness ambushing on the other side . . . . . . . . . . . we entered NOTHING which differed in no way from SOMETHING we had just left - - - - - - - for several hours for half a day for more than half a day – hard to tell – the sun seemed to stop in the sky the earth seemed to stop rotating the pastel hills and mountains still the same . . . . it might seem the train was not rolling at all – only thoughts kept crawling while the distance was unmeasurable – we were going through NOTHING and nothing of what could and should happen happened: nobody controlled anybody nobody asked anybody about anything nobody halted anybody nobody checked anybody and anything nobody appeared nobody was seen anywhere - - - as if we were entering the non-state : : : : : : : : : this train could be a colourful caterpillar slowly and patiently and doggedly moving forward and looking for a silent place where disturbed by nobody it would hide in a cocoon and sleep to wake up as a gorgeous butterfly – but none of the passengers imagined and perceived this that way - - something else was swarming inside the heads in the cocoons of turbans – certainly not beautiful butterflies maybe just beautiful fuzzy caterpillars or even naked larvae . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . and finally out of nothingness a shack emerged – it could be a shepherds' shed or an outlaws shelter – it could be as well a seat of rangers or military police and if so it wouldn't surprise anybody it would only ruin some dreams and illusions what shouldn't be considered horrible and inhuman especially when compared with atrocities and devastations caused by stubborn attempts to make these dreams real and to live in the world of illusions paying no attention to the costs of such fantasies - - this does not mean dreams and illusions are same thing although with no doubt they have a lot in common - - - - - - - on the shack one could see one big word: CASH DESK . . . . . . . . . those who had their heads in dirty and clean clouds darted towards the shack yelling and shrieking pushing elbowing jostling each other fighting as if this shack was a fortress defending a road leading to extremely rich land hidden somewhere behind the pastel mountains – which was true – they transformed themselves into a huge monstrous one-hundred-hand one-thousand-finger centipede and all these hands and all these fingers were trying to get into the CASH DESK all at once in the same moment through every hole every slit every crack – it's really amazing that the one-after-the-other strategy so useful in one land can be absolutely unknown in another land and even being known it has no chances competing the all-at-once strategy especially when there's no danger of lacking anything – in this very case of lacking the tickets: nobody get in and nobody get off on the way to the CASH DESK and it was perfectly clear that none of the passengers could be stopped due to the lack of ticket - - - - - how could we-with-bare-heads-or-wearing-caps know about it – how could we buy tickets if we hadn't exchanged some motley banknotes on the platform almost a day ago – oh normally just normally we only had to wait a bit till the one-hundred-hand one-thousand-finger one-hundred-leg beast would disperse and vanish thus uncovering a vast territory for negotiations – time was not a problem – we had plenty of time – the train was standing and waiting