the smell [Theme]

In America, rappers were mainly blacks, and they used the “N-word” to identify themselves. Only blacks were allowed to use it. And in Russia, rappers were Jews (which led to interesting mutations of the genre, turning criminal bravado into nervous confession), and they used the “F-word,” which only they could use with impunity. In general, an archaic system of cross-taboo self-identifications, a sweetish smell of decay and the aroma of centuries.

Everything that once touched you to the depths of your soul, wounded you to the very heart, is not forgotten. It only becomes covered with time

... 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!

The Book of Life - pages that have a different smell and can cause pain with a thin cut of a new leaf.

Robinson accelerated and released the throttle. He gasped and let go. He gasped and let go. The rich smell of freshly burned gasoline filled the path. The world might have been a rotting corpse, that's all, but silence had been banished, at least here and now, and that was good. It was absolutely amazing. “Get the fuck out, silence,” he thought. - Get out. Get the fuck out and take with you the nag you hobbled on. This is my horse, it’s made of steel, how do you like it?”

God saves us from the shit on earth.

Living without fairy tales is somehow wrong. Even very adult and serious people. Especially now.

Happiness smells like the house where parents live.

December. It's time to inhale the smell of a fresh Christmas tree and open a dusty box of old New Year's toys with bated breath. Time to build new dreams, believe in a winter fairy tale and wait for miracles, involuntarily creating them with your own hands.

Boxing is life, there is no doubt about it!

Today I took my ticket to the unknown.

The smell of the subway is the sweat of big cities.

...but never use it. Forgiveness is not endless, just like love.

...but never use it. Forgiveness is not endless, just like love.