And today I saw ashberry, lots of ashberry. The branches are tilting to the ground.
It is so strange, just a week ago there was none of it at all.
A few bright sunny days, and it picked up the juice, filled with a form.
Not yet red, not yet the harbinger of winter. Bright orange with thick heavy bunches.
Continue reading “A tribute to my girls. August”
And sometimes it hurts so much that there’s hardly a breath in the air.
The pain grows inside and it seems that toxic poison is splashing on the surface of the skin.
Continue reading “A tribute to my girls. The pain”
Do you want me to tell you a story about Harmony and Order?
Around many of us there are Events happening at first glance not related to each other. However, if you take a closer look, you will see that everything has its Patterns and Rules, which are comfortably arranged side by side and form slender and beautiful rows.
Continue reading “A tribute to my girls. Harmony and Order”
Here you run, run and collect beads – red, blue, with the sun inside, with an olive sheen.
And the rain is drumming harder, dispersing colored drops apart.
And you are trying to have time at the same time in different directions, to pick up speed.
It is important for you to collect them all.
Continue reading “A tribute to my girls. The rain”
nd when you return home from a trip, no matter it was happy or difficult, tedious or easy, you cross the threshold and inhale the smells for the first second.
Continue reading “A tribute to my girls. The home”
How are you there?
Sometimes it seems that you are so exhausted.
There is no will, no desire.
Long-winded fatigue and lack of desire to move.
And the body, just to please, throws signals: here and there it needles, press drawlingly, begins to moan…
Continue reading “A tribute to my girls. Breath with me…”
And it happens when the hoarfrost of autumn leaves has penetrated into your soul, it has become very cold inside.
Squeaks from any movement, scratches, when trying to curl up into a ball and warm up.
It is freezing, cold.
Continue reading “A tribute to my girls. The hoarfrost”
When I want to talk to you.
I want you to ask: “What am I thinking about?”
About how easily and quickly years run, that everything is too near and close-close. About how little sincere joy and a lot of stone walls around. About gusts, about trust, which is either there or not. Or there is no such nature of things – trust. What is it?
Continue reading “A tribute to my girls. When I want”
And sometimes the rain will charge for the whole day.
Foliage, tired for long dusty days, greedily catches life-giving drops.
Continue reading “A tribute to my girls. Summer rain”
And you hid in your hole, wrapped in a warm sweater tied with caring hands and froze:
Continue reading “A tribute to my girls. Zero kilometer”