charm [Theme] Page 1

He was fascinated by you precisely because you were so fascinated by him.

a life that people do not have ... because of their cowardice.

I'm a lovely "flower"
fascinated - and even separated
don't forget about him, -
oh, when the vain passion
the heart will cease to langh?..

The shore is sandy.
On the boat fishing squat,
I listen to you -
this tale of love
enchanted and intoxicated...

Gianni sculpted fantastically fast. Everything in his yard was pampering. He always had a dozen orders plus everything he sculpted for himself. The ecstasy of St. Catherine, for example. He played with materials - wood, bronze, marble, granite. He made metal look like stone, stone, like wood, turned wood into bronze, but so too - dabbled. He always sculpted in full growth.
St. Catherine was circling with him. The Church always puts its saints static, and his marble of her robes spilled, scattered evening dress - the luxury of fabrics. From under the dress of St. Catherine curls were knocked out and curled on the cheeks, on the lips open, the perfect shape of the lips, wrapped tears - marble, but so real that you believed - they are transparent, salty and hot. Tears wet her lips, her eyes closed, her eyelids light like the wings of a bat. Like the wings of a bat - trembling, you believed - tremble eyelids at St. Catherine in ecstasy. And the whole figure of heavy marble was weightless - about to take off. Dance through the air.
Gianni sculpted Katerina from the Stasi. But I saw the Stasi so magnificent only once - in Italy on a rock. Stasi in a heavy robe after an evening swim with a towel on his hair, Stasi champagne hit the heart, we are sixteen, twilight stuck to us purple cotton candy. The Stasi, kissed, summer, swirled to herbert's songs - in pain, rage, happiness. In the pain of the horror of realizing that maybe she would never pull such openness again, she would never feel so good. Furious that childhood is gone, that Herbert and I competed for a transparent girl, but now she can't keep up with us. And she'll never keep up. In rage, pain, that these are the last rays of the sun, when it is the center for us. In happiness - and how without happiness on the rocks of Italy, when you cause a slight intoxication in the lord and the brightest of his warriors? As without happiness?

No photograph can convey the charm that the daughters of this supernatural old man possess. They have some kind of devilish trait that destroys the moral strength of a man and takes him beyond the bounds of honor and dishonor.

You see, I looked up to you. You're a truly amazing person. I only become charming next to others. So everybody does? Your relationships with people make you a person. I've said it before, but that's how I relate to life. But you and only you have always been yourself. You did not communicate with anyone and did not rely on anyone, you figured yourself out and gained your charm. I've always wanted me to do that too. And that day... The day you genuinely worried about me... The day you said you wanted me to live... For the first time in my life, I was able to feel special and unique. I used to think that I was no different from hundreds of thousands of other high school students, even if I was destined to live much less. And for some reason you cared about such a boring girl. You didn't need other people: no friends, no girlfriend. And you took... and chose me like this! Maybe all my life, all my 17 years, I lived for you to choose me. Like cherry blossom petals that are waiting for spring to arrive!

After all, all human life, in fact, is a slow dying. It is not even we who are dying - the world around us gradually fades. In the first years of our life, and it is in its prime. (Isn't that why childhood memories are so vivid?) We are surrounded by close creatures - father, mother, grandmothers, grandfathers, friends from kindergarten and school come for them, first love blossoms. These are the cornerstones on which the small universe of each of us is based. In childhood and adolescence, it is completely real and tangible, while all people dear to us are with us among the living. With each of them we are connected by myriads of the finest threads: common thoughts, shared vacations, light, dizzy novels, an outstretched hand. Weaving together memories and experiences, these people weave the silk yarn of our reality, our world, our life.
But the years go by, and they - one by one - leave us, turn into ethereal ghosts and find their last refuge in our memories. Trying to make our native voice sound even for a fraction of a second in our head, trying to return from oblivion the charm of their smile, we can spend hours in vain looking at their photographs. The pain of losing a loved one cannot be overcome; only time dulls it.
And with each new death, our Universe is shifting more and more into another dimension - into the plane of our fantasies, the plane of our memory. It goes into the past, we live less and less for today, and more and more immerse ourselves in yesterday, which is indistinctly and vaguely imprinted in our consciousness.
The first to leave are grandmothers and grandfathers, the dog that was with us while we were growing up dies, and our childhood dies with them. Their death is a milestone: after it, the so-called maturity begins.
Then it is the turn of the parents; when they leave us, it will mean that adulthood is over, and we froze on the threshold of old age. And then one of the long-gray school friends or the toothless, but with the same enthusiasm of the university comrades who were smiling at us, dies; finally, a husband or wife.
This is the last sign: it's time for us to prepare too. Because our whole world, like a dying huge ocean liner, is plunging into the abyss of the past. Dark waters will drop by drop fill the cabins of memories, inhabited by the images of colleagues, army colleagues, phantoms of fathers and brothers, mothers and sisters ... They will rush into luxurious banquet halls, where we celebrated our little triumphs: successfully passed school exams, hard-won admission to the university, love victories, weddings and births of children, expected job promotions for years. The holds, where the black hours of our life are dumped, will also be flooded: we would like to batten them down tightly, but memory gapes with cracks, the edges of which will never converge.
[…]
... When the waves of oblivion reach the captain's bridge and lick our feet, it will only be necessary to salute with dignity for the last time and silently close our eyes. And then we, in turn, will become the borderline that will mark the end of childhood for our grandchildren and the beginning of old age for our children.

In the sunrises - a wonderful charm of new life!

There was nothing mysterious about Monica Lewinsky, and nothing sexy about La Gioconda. But if we imagine the shimmering mystery of La Gioconda, fused with the earthly sensuality of Monica Lewinsky, and then add to this the charm of early youth, we get Isolde.

Charm is a woman's best weapon, and you need to use it without a twinge of conscience. To conquer a man, a trifle is enough - a look, a smile.

I found an inexplicable charm in thinking about loneliness - and, as a consequence, in an attempt to overcome the solitude of his thoughts about loneliness, sharing information about that, I think, I learned.

- Honey-darling Sarah, you give me this dance?
- Oh, my Lord the devil, with pleasure.

Like the sisters, are fed by hand
A single of our mother Nature
Name the colors of the stars the darkness of the earth
And the star - blossoms of the sky.
Although the flowers from the stars removed
But the similarities all over their charm.
In the darkness of the equal beauty of the full
Flower smile and the stars twinkle...
When the white clouds of dawn
Flowers heaven's will fade and disappear
Dewdrop transparent - look -
A tear trembles beneath the earth star.