Book: It's too early to bury us

People are the most powerful resource. True, often directed, unfortunately, not at creation, but at destruction. Including self-destruction. Many have not only lost their sense of smell and taste, but also their sight and hearing. Lost ourselves. They spend precious time on what instead of pleasure brings only burnout. Exhaustion. Physical, emotional, intellectual.

If it is difficult to breathe, close your eyes. Remember the smell of warm bread. Feel the taste of cream cheese on your lips. It's like a kiss with a loved one. Special. Other people's lips smell of awkwardness and mistakes. Relatives - meaningful pleasure, quiet joy that there is someone to breathe oxygen into you, to fill you with life.

Remember that even runaway coffee and spilled sugar are fortunate. It's all fortunate when there is someone to tell about it. When you can speak, smell, see colors.

Faced in the elevator, we turn away, do not go to the neighbors for salt, do not bake pies with grandmothers. What for? After all, everything can be bought in a supermarket, or even better - ordered at home through the application. Not to see anyone. Do not contact. We're just afraid to look each other in the eye.

Wet benches in every city shine with loneliness. Nowadays, even headphones are not tied to the phone with wires, with people the same. Everyone on their own.

A man runs from morning to night, like a wounded lynx in the ass, trying to make money, buy, sell, be in time everywhere, not finding time to stop and just hug someone who is nearby, ask how the day went. But care is about eternal values.

There are no good and bad wives / husbands / friends / lovers. There are people who are right for you and people who are not. If the puzzle does not add up, do not torture each other, find the courage to admit it. To be able to let go, as well as to be able to leave, is about dignity.

We need to meet more often. Find out what is inside those who walk down the street, raising the collar of their coat, hiding from prying eyes, sometimes too persistent. Meditate. Learn to listen and hear, ask and tell stories. Be yourself and let others. Dream and find like-minded people.

I chose you by smell. You know, it happens that a picture is visually beautiful, but in life a person is absolutely tasteless, smelling of emptiness, transparency. It's different with you. First time eye to eye, remember you were late that day? And the buds between the ribs blossomed, and around us the aroma, tart, rich, thick, you could even touch it, dipping your fingers with pleasure. And no matter what happens next, these shades will remain in the memory forever. I close my eyes somewhere on the other side of the planet, and you are in me. Even after through ventilation.

The sweetest fruits come through violent inner resistance. You can pick up all your life what falls under your feet, not finding the strength to reach the top, but then you have to choke on rot. Only the truly desperate are capable of peaking, peeling their skin along the way, willing to risk everything. And only by stepping on the throat of your fears, you will get a chance to find your personal Garden of Eden, becoming a winner in life.

Watching passers-by happily wandering, holding hands, she promised herself no longer to turn off the clear road into other people's turnways, not to jump into rides rushing in the opposite direction, not to adapt to someone's ideas about life. She will have her own happy ending, her own, but first you need to complete the transformation and finally get rid of the backpack with stones, almost attached to her back, which she patiently ripped off, despite the pain.

January was deaf and blind. Lazy and cruel. The dirty ice on the sidewalks, strewn with sand, looked angrily up at the passers-by. Naked trees along the road bared their teeth, pulled their branches twisted by frost, like beggars on the porch, “give, give, give,” periodically clung to the hair, to the fur coat, as if trying to tear it apart.

One day you just accept the rules of the game that are imposed on you, and on all serious "whys" you come up with sarcastic jokes, forgetting your own truth. You pour the sequins into the trash. You change into black and personally launch a catapult into your air castles, watching indifferently as they collapse. Forever. Over time, a person gets used to everything, even to the chest. The main thing is not to show scars. Do not let touch. And do not forget to smile, so that no one suddenly thinks that there is something more in you than you demonstrate.

At the cemetery, fences near the graves are not just installed. This is a stop sign, you cannot cross them. Trample flowers and earth, under which the remains are not. Every living person must also have an invisible fence. Personal boundaries. Inside this fenced-in perimeter, it's just me. Outside it are family, children, men, friends, colleagues and everyone else. So, my flowers cannot be trampled either. Climbing over the fence is prohibited. No one has the right to advise me how to live, how to behave, what job to choose, whom to love, how to paint and dress, how to feed a cat, if I did not ask this opinion myself. No one has the right to touch me without my desire. Even take the hand. If a woman says "no", men for some reason often look for a double meaning, thinking that she "breaks down" and builds her own worth. “No” only means “no.” Around my inner world there is not just a fence, but also barbed wire, and machine gunners on the towers. One extra word - and a person at gunpoint, a repeat offender will be shot on the spot.