And if an idea to be a citizen of Liberland crosses your mind, neither stop it nor chase it. Just let it go, let it fly through your brain till it vanishes far far beyond the horizon of your head. Let it perish and disappear and never come back. There is no reason, good or bad, it torments and makes you suffer.
There are no citizens here, so had you a wish to be one and be convinced and sure you met all possible and necessary conditions, you would never be a citizen of Liberland. Neither the first and the only one. Nor the exceptional one. Nor the honourable. There are no citizens here, I do repeat. And there will be none. That's the way it is.
What are the citizens for? Are they really needed? They would want and desired rights at once. Only rights. Nothing but rights – and no duties at all. This is the ideal. This is what all citizens are bound for. Oh, no! This is not the ideal. Privileges. Nothing but privileges. That's the ideal! Rights are not enough. Everybody must have rights, but only a few can have privileges – this is the nature of a privilege. But it is also natural that everybody wants to be privileged. Everybody wants to have exactly the same privileges as everybody else and some privileges that nobody else has. They will start a horrible mess and endless arguing at once, so is there any good reason to have citizens here? Do I really need here a gang of guys considering themselves better than the others who consider themselves much better than those ones? This can cause only a awful headache. I'm quite satisfied with my mild (just half-a-day-and-two-pills) migraines attacking me from time to time – not so often, really.

However, if you want you can be a letter in a book. Do you want? Just a letter. An ordinary letter. Well, maybe you could choose a shape ..... No. Absolutely no. At once everybody would like to be a gorgeous initial, while nobody would like to be a simple coma. So, if you want, you can be a letter. Or a sign. Having no right to make your choice. If it happens you have to be f then you will be f. That's all . . . . . . Has choosing any sense? Just think. You have come here, so you already are here. I could ask you: what letter are you? which letter are you? I could do that but I won't. At once you would like to make comments. Nothing like that, my dear sweet letter. Nothing like that! My dear exclamation sign.