SelfPub: How much do we think...

How much it seems to us, but so little lives up to expectations. The cool night with light snow was able to calm down, relieve stress. The pain inside went away from the coolness, and the dusk, combined with Billy Boyd's melody, involuntarily drove into a drowsiness. Just for the sake of this it is worth growing, working, buying a car in order to get out alone and feel this feeling of incomparable loneliness. The sound of nature, the smell of fresh snow. Indeed, in our cruel century - the 21st century - there are almost no people left with whom you can go for a run in the morning and argue with whom you can be silent, with whom you can dream. Dream about what will never be: about the White City or about the eternal to think. What topics are always relevant? Books, the very first editions of books. This topic is so interesting, full of irony, tenderness, but it is eternal and interesting. And how few of those with whom you can lie on the green grass and watch the clouds swarm in the sky. No, it could be anything but love. A friend you want to dream with. And see how the clouds change shape, clouds that sometimes look like a thick white ship, and sometimes like a dark castle of ghosts. There are even fewer people with whom you can describe words of love on the first snow. And think only about that person. How blind and strange people are - they learn to appreciate those they have only after they feel the pain of loss. Slowly the new moon and the first rays of the sun, as if fighting among themselves, expose the winner - dawn. A bluish sky, heavy, but so beautiful, overshadowed by darkness, but part of it owns the light. Eyes involuntarily drop to the clock. Early morning. Alas, that day has passed, and no one knows what this one is preparing.