Gabriel Troepolsky. White BIM Black Ear (№ 414435)

It happens in late autumn, even after wintering summer will return and catch the outgoing autumn with a fiery tail. And autumn will melt, unsoak and calm down, like an affectionate dog that is stroked by a woman. And then the forest will smell the farewell aroma of fallen foliage, ruby rose hips and barberry amber, tart and spicy as pepper, ungulates, white mushroom, untouched, already collapsed, soaked in water, but still smelly, reminiscent of past weather and flow through the forest smiling good spirit from pine to birch, from birch to oak, and he will respond with mighty smells of force, fortresses of forest and eternity. In the smells of the forest there is something eternal and indestructible, especially palpable in the warm, soft and affectionate farewell last days of the outgoing autumn. She has already freed herself from the tedious rains, the angry attacks of the winter and the meticulous, all the enveloping needles of the ine: everything is gone, everything is in the past. And as if autumn, falling asleep, sees a dream about summer, and we are shown their divine visions in all the greatness of spiritualized beauty and in the life-giving aromas of the earth. Fortunately for the one who managed to absorb all this from childhood and carried through life, without spilling a drop from the vessel of salvation of the soul given by nature!
On such days in the forest, the heart becomes forgiving, but also demanding of itself. Peaceful, you merge with nature. In these solemn moments of dreams of autumn, it is so desirable that there is no untruth and evil on earth. And in the silence of the outgoing autumn, taught by its gentle sled, in the days of short oblivion of the coming winter, you
you begin to understand: only the truth, only honor, only a clear conscience, and about all this - a word. A word to little people who will then be adults, a word to adults who have not forgotten that they were once children.