Author of quotes: Alexander Makarov. Page 3

He left, but his smell remained. A cocktail of youth, cigarettes, volcanic temperament and menthol gum.

Rustle of leaves. Wings flap. Splashes of water from a passing car. The scream of a neighbor. Dog barking. Message signal. Everything merged into a single melody. Music life. I wanted to dive into it with a bomb, like into a lake. Swim and enjoy. Feel your body, every muscle, moving your arms and legs, as if in a dance.

Raindrops vigorously hammered on the asphalt, turning the pits into small pools for pigeons. The unbearably light smell of cleanliness enveloped lonely passers-by, penetrating into the nostrils without any embarrassment. From this thought began to soar, became airy, elegant, weightless. Bubbles of joy ran through the veins like children in a stadium, overtaking each other with a flood of laughter.

When the iron curtain, which you carefully erected for many years, crumbles like chalk, the truth is exposed, and you can easily become what you always wanted to be, but feared. The greatest value is to stop playing hide and seek with yourself. If you are not ashamed to look your own reflection in the eyes, you won.

Life sometimes forces you to make a choice, and often your future depends entirely on this choice, no matter how pretentious it may sound. Decide, finally, what is important, valuable, desirable for you. Just don't run away like you did before, leaving everything you started to build. Take courage, otherwise you will be left with nothing again. Step on the throat of your fears. You are stronger, you just do not know about it. Close your eyes. Slow down your pulse. Erase the pictures of the past. They are no longer needed. Don't exaggerate the importance of past experiences. He only pulls down into the abyss. Don't jump into it, please, just walk forward, in small steps, without rushing.

When the black ice inside cracks and melts, a long-abandoned oil well is exposed and suddenly starts gushing. From the very depths, filling all the voids. Gift or curse? Will she bring what you dream of? Or will you drown, drown, perish in a fever? Dive. And pray that you reach out, pull out if you feel yourself sucking in. In any case, it is no longer possible to live in a cryochamber. Will not work. The process has started. The heart began to beat. It's time to deal with the true, deep, suddenly awakened, seething. You can be afraid. To take back - no. Repeated freezing will lead to the death of all living things.

There were no regrets at all. Rather, joy, shy like a child, but already palpable. A small sprout of freedom was greening inside, somewhere in the solar plexus area, while uncertainly, but still relentlessly making its way through the cracks of the internal organs burned by anger, resentment and alcohol, entangling the lungs with the finest stems, almost transparent. First, the left one, closer to the heart, filling it with oxygen and the desire to live, and then the right one, displacing the remnants of festering memories from the aveols that interfere with breathing.

Eugene saw, very clearly, her whole life, and realized its value. She wanted to sit on the shore of the lake and touch the sand with her hands, clamp it in a fist and release it in a thin trickle back, watching every grain of sand intently. I wanted to look at the streaks on the plantain. Count the petals of daisies. Remember how they drew on their hands with calendula juice, imagining themselves indian princesses. Sniff spruce branches and young cones in the forest. And she touched, counted and sniffed. I remembered and cried. She pieced herself together. Anew. Digging up small details among the garbage.

The threads of the past that held her to the unseen puppeteer were cut off. First, her hands were freed, Zhenya looked at them like the first time, wiggled her fingers, feeling surprised that they did not tremble, then her legs, gradually feeling solid ground again. The first uncertain step, the second. With each passing day, the painful weakness escaped, giving way to lightness and still timid strength.

It sometimes seemed to her that there were no sensible females left in the world. They were all obsessed with youth and outward gloss, trying to go against the laws of nature, disfigured faces and bodies, modeling themselves as a machine. A car that can be fucked. All her friends diligently tuned to sell more expensive, to increase their market value. For what? To choke on oysters on Fridays, which they hate, for the sake of fashion trends, to fry not in Russian resorts, but on the European coast and cover their bodies not with fakes of expensive brands, but with originals. Only now they did not realize that they themselves had long turned into cheap copies of each other.

Alcohol does not choose whom to ruin - rich or poor, stupid or smart, beautiful or ugly - everyone is equal before him, as before any disease. Only this disease is not noble, it does not cause pity, therefore it is carefully hidden as long as there are enough resources.

You are obsessed, have lost common sense in the name of implementing crazy ideas that bring crazy money. So you also promote these ideas, this is a manic desire for success at any cost! You urge to live one day, buy and consume, ignoring reality. In pursuit of the ideals imposed by advertising, people die, and in their place there are only mannequins, dead inside, but carefully licked outside.

Borders are being erased. The boundaries of what is permissible, what is allowed, what is needed. Promotion of the art of indifference. Everyone is selling the tools of a happy life. Selfish life. Devaluation of simple things, people, human relations, frightens every day more and more. Marathons multiply like cockroaches, and people rush headlong, not thinking that the newly minted info-gypsies are just cynically making money on their complexes. Nothing personal. This is business, baby.

Not writing for someone who lives by it is disastrous. Words hidden from the world begin to fight with your cells, eating away at the body from the inside. They beat against the walls of blood vessels, trying to get out, not understanding and not accepting imprisonment. Now in the heart, now in the liver, protest cries with a demand for freedom are heard. The most important of them are combined into sentences, they become stronger, grouped, armed with metaphors and epithets and get out of control. If you keep pretending that they don't exist, keep playing hide and seek, or offer deals, sooner or later you will not recognize your reflection in the mirror. Reach out to them and pull them from the barricades onto the paper. People need them, you need them ...