Book: Slow boat to China

Death in twenty-eight sad as the rain in December.

Because there is no name hovering in the sky birds, my memory of dates.

I only know that man with tray on his head can't tilt your head to the sky.

If I'm in my thirty years again crash at full speed into a basketball stand or Wake up under the vine shelf with a baseball glove under my head - I'll cry this time? I do not know. There is, perhaps, this: "Hey, I don't belong here!".

If you look, I shouldn't be here.

But even so, something was not going out of my head. Something miserable, even can not Express with words. This is something where something was clearly lost. And I knew it. Something lost.
It took fifteen minutes to figure out what it is. In the end, I made an unforgivable mistake. Stupid and pointless. As part of the meaninglessness of this error - pure grotesque. In short, I put her on the Yamanote circle line in the wrong direction.

What has already occurred, continues to exist outside of my will. It is like memories. You know what they are - would never forget, especially if you want to forget.

... my China - China just for me. Or should I do it. Same with my new York, St. Petersburg, Earth, and Universe.

We can go anywhere and can't go anywhere.

- Sorry, but I constantly have a hard time remembering faces.
- Strive to forget the past. That's what it is. Apparently, subconsciously.
- Yeah, - I agreed. Perhaps the way it is.

... the whole world is full of lost and the upcoming love.

I believe that the individuality of each person surpasses all categories and General considerations.

... sit on the stone steps at the port and wait, when to clean the horizon will be a slow boat to China.

My principle is this: at least, if to do something, it makes sense to do it with a twinkle.