clouds [Theme] Page 5

And we would move the clouds,
But I'm still pushing the bottom.

That I knew.

The afternoon sun slapped the surface of the sea with myriads of inaudible slaps, and the entire bay burned with unbearably bright radiance. In the distance, half drowned behind the horizon, majestic summer clouds froze, similar to sad and silent prophets. Their powerful muscles gleamed white with alabaster.

The clouds cannot find a refuge - their soul is looking for peace!

There are people with whom you can be silent, you can not talk, but you know - they understand like no one else what this or that view means. There are very few of them, with them you can dream, watch as the clouds swarm in the sky. Everyone has his own such a person - for someone it is a mistress, for someone a friend, for someone a sister or brother. For me, such a person is the eldest son.

- That's what I understand! I don’t believe it worked - I myself didn’t understand what I said.

Day changed into night: views changed, clouds flashed. How I love this time of day. The time when no one touches you. Nobody needs you. Just you and your thoughts. At this time, you become their captive. And there is no way out to escape from them. At this time, your dreams and fantasies become even crazier. The one who you will never be in the morning wakes up in you. That crazy person who is ready for all these violent acts, whatever they may be. At this time, you can be a different self. With your favorite music. With your favorite books. And it doesn't matter where you are and how many problems surround you. It's just that at a certain moment, at this time, you disconnect. You are left alone. No one needs it. And you go mad without haste. You change your life. You build a plan, a picture, a plot of an ideal life for you. No problem. No unnecessary things. You surrender to fantasies and desires. At this time, we are sincere. At this time, we are ready to cry with emotion, looking at how sweetly our children sleep. You talk about what was locked during the day. That which cannot be talked about. You miss things that will never be before, but you know that everything will be better later. You set goals and prepare to go for them. But in the morning, alas, you realize that this is stupid.

Of the day that lurked behind the hillocks.

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.

As a memory, to a forgotten land ...

Recognize that the very molecules that make up your body, the atoms that make up these molecules, originated in the melting pots that were once the cores of heavy stars. These stars poured their element-rich interiors into the galaxy's space and enriched the primordial clouds of interplanetary gas with the chemistry of life. So we are all connected with each other biologically, with the Earth - chemically, and with the rest of the universe - at the level of atoms. It's cool, I would say.

An elementary calculation: if you are knee-deep in the sea, then your head is in the clouds.

Or I will be silent, covering my mouth with my hands, as if I were crying.

Clouds are a living symbol of divine childhood!