North [Theme]

... Before all the prickly snowflakes had time to fly away to the north, there was a subtle smell of tulips in the air. A barely perceptible smell, like spring itself. You feel it with some kind of subconscious, sixth sense, but you don’t yet understand why exactly it appeared to you. In watercolor clouds with a thin thread of pink sunset or in fragile grass breaking through the snow. So it is with love. He comes unnoticed, on tiptoe, barely touching your still sleeping eyes, kisses your eyelashes, touches your warm cheek with a stripe from your previous sleep, smoothes it out. Gently, like a butterfly, touches your lips, afraid to wake you up or seem pushy. Braids your most cherished dreams into your braids, puts fresh flowers of hope in your pockets. And you smile in your sleep, joyful and calm, trusting this new feeling. Everything that happened before, all your disappointments, fears, doubts will melt like this February snow and flow away with the first streams. Do you hear, baby, Spring-love is knocking on your door. Come on, girl, go ahead and open it. You, like no one else, deserve your happiness!

I became a vampire in order to forget myself, my existence and the whole world forever, among the snowy forests and emerald heavenly rivers, my northern lands.

“They died the day we set out, boy.

- Because of the bottles in the basin? Look, this is not America for you. If because of every 500 bottles in the basin, there will be no one to work with.

We hear, beloved (my beloved).

[John loads his gun] - Let's go.

There is nothing calmer and boundless than the long winter haze, it drags on and on, and life passes as if in a dungeon, where this haze either thickens into the night, then slightly thins, and then the dusk of the day comes, you are fenced off from everything, securely sheltered and even more so. lonely than ever.

until the last breath of heaven.

The viewer's eye is easily touched.

The Polar Star is burning.

It is very difficult to overcome the hostile force that has seized key economic and ideological positions and still holds in its hands many of the political levers of power in the country. But the hour is coming when all the evil spirits will be delivered to the Yaroslavsky station, the places for it in the last carriage to the north are ready. And law enforcement agencies are already picking passengers from among high-ranking corrupt officials.

She told them about a man who traveled around the globe trying to avoid his fate of death. To the north and to the south, to the east and to the west, he went all the ways and roads. And so, during one of his countless wanderings, he unexpectedly met the angel of death Azrael in the city of Cairo. The angel of death looked at him with a mysterious piercing look, did not say a word and did not follow him. This man immediately left Cairo and galloped without respite until he reached a godforsaken sleepy town somewhere in China. Exhausted from thirst and fatigue, he went to the first tavern. There sat Azrael at the next table. He had been waiting for this man for a long time and patiently and now greeted him with obvious relief. "I was so surprised when I came across you in Cairo," he said in a hoarse voice, "we are destined to meet in China."

It seemed to me a stuffy prison.

Sick, sad, but lovely couple.