This is very bad. The story is as old as the world, and that's why you don't want to tell anyone about it. And who will you tell? old books or a single statuette that vaguely resembles Pilate? maybe it's not Pilate at all. everything was mixed into a single shapeless mass, only vaguely reminiscent of your old life. There's no need to cling to it.

Two eyes stood out from the whole mass. multicolored. Maybe you're delusional. one is black, the other is green. in your apartment, he seems like a diamond among the pebbles, but not in the matter of being chosen. everything could shine if you put some effort into it. but you didn't do it. No wonder.

— are you lying down again? — his voice sounds so far away because of the tinnitus that it sounds like he's speaking from another room, even though he's sitting right in front of your bed. It generally feels like a hallucination flowing through your veins like a miraculous stream. although... If it hadn't been for him, it would have ended much sooner.

— come on, please, you need to finish your work. — Woland is either begging or seducing with his low voice and crooked smile. you know for sure that he is the devil, because it's not for nothing that he has such a surname. and this detachment from the whole world, its atypical nature, will always distinguish a person in it from this world. — you will be rewarded for this, I guarantee you. After all, when was the last time I was wrong? You can rely on me.

but is it really possible to rely on him?