Author of quotes: Catherine Dedukh

Windows catch on the memory landscape in the distance.
Want it or not - on the tracks ahead run.
Soul all my life pour out into the road rhythm
The heartbeat in the metal swallowed by the quiet.

The sun leaves so easily trampled into the ground
That numbs the soul.
They say "do not judge" - I say nothing, I accept,
I look out of breath.

Here pottery - ordinary capacity.
Her inheritance - a simple and invisible work.
Its sides are alien to the porcelain delicacy
Those cups that guests are on holiday served.

As a young, drawn by the hot light
The germ flies, grain granulating -
So, in the sky reaching for the answer,
And one day you will freak out.
And, turning around, suddenly see clearly:
Not that the world was cold and small,
Heat you could draw every hour
When I was looking for, not a weak-willed waited.

The wind is quiet babble of the pale quinoa
The sun lightly dancing in the black water.
My life will fill in the uneven lines of the black series
Like the sun - beam into the well. Let them burn
Deep... Funny to think: if I were Il not be
After my life will continue somehow:
Will read and catch (well, without me)
Bunny sun - the rest continue to fire.

Erasing the thought in verbal gunpowder,
But the main finding,
Looking outside the window the town
Is the catharsis of rain.
How shallow and insignificant
My slovakey plant
In comparison with a drop of that on the skin
Snail peace creeps...
Drop everything and run out
In the yard in the rain and in this moment,
I think I the world is changing
More than writing books.

So, waves of the clarity covered,
Which beamed with all his being -
As you dust
Lovingly rubbed sleeve
And something suddenly to the brim
Your filled the emptiness,
However, immediately drank a gulp -
And you're back in the dark.

You do not need strength from heaven to ask and will -
Everything is in you, and the sky level you are.

Dream: become vague transparent previously given,
Boiling thunderstorm, blocking the planned path.
And the water that cradled quietly, yaritsya and rocks
Predatory sharp stones. But I can't turn,
And I can not be unstuck or broken on the rocks,
By accident or on purpose to die on the way:
I'm sailing a boat in a quiet Bay to the pier
Passing the ocean, all those roads, have to take.

As long as the speed close to the speed of light
Turning world in the stormy vortex of empty change,
And the flood rises - are you looking for the answer,
At the edge of his pauses, and you catch the moment
And get time, seal the matter of signs
His solution... That is, gel-pen in hand
You stairway to heaven that Jacob dreamed,
All build and build, adjusting the line to the line.

The familiar, steady hand
Grind in native material
Plain letters, so booklet simple
He, like coffee in the jar stood.
There will come a time, get this grind,
Make the thoughts strong in hot water
And all the past will rush across the table
Unrestrained, animated easily.

Emptiness as my puppy Julia,
In the pre-dawn darkness will disappear.
Never give you myself,
But I voradesh me.

Like to the bottom through the day I fall to sleep.
I dream as a child to sleep, a pillow touch.
But the sleepy customs inspection to pass I need:
Do not miss me, if a thought at me one.