trees [Theme] Page 2

Everything in our life is fleeting. Seasons change, trees lose their leaves, birds fly away in a beautiful school into the sky ... And life itself is very fragile and hence precious.

and there is still time to think about the soul.

and all this eternity lay down.

When the trees around burned out.

Their Oil would turn into Tears.

Flowers of love - never wither!

... As if then life was brighter. The trees were greener, the flowers more colorful, the asphalt lighter.

They flow slowly - in a weak, almost imperceptible flow - moving through time and space until they find a crack where they can settle and harden. If we take, for example, children who grew up under the same roof, then some suffer from such injuries more than others. Haven't you ever met brothers and sisters who were completely different from each other in temperament, although they had the same opportunities? One of them is always more withdrawn and melancholic than the other. That happens. Sometimes family traumas skip a generation and double their grip in the next. Often, grandchildren silently carry the grievances and experiences of their grandparents.

There was nothing to betray.

Just as trees are constantly communicating, competing and collaborating - both above and below the ground - so stories sprout, flow and bloom, intertwining with invisible roots.

I had a hard time understanding how she could die, leave and never come back, so she told me about sakura. People come to Japan from all over the world to watch the trees bloom. This season does not last long, but the spectacle is breathtaking. And then the flowers wither, fall to the ground and are carried by the wind. Grandmother said that the cherry blossom period is life. Sweet and beautiful, but treacherously short. That's why you shouldn't spend it on something you don't feel like doing. And it's worth spending it with people ... whom you love.

Only the life of the trees is not important, but the beauty they create. Life is a moment, impeccability is eternal. How these flowers remain beautiful under a downpour, among mud and puddles... So a truly noble and wise warrior remains them in any situation. No matter what doubts overcome him, no matter how cruel death threatens him. The garden is beautiful as long as the thoughts and aspirations of Arai men are beautiful.

It became clear that this was not a given at all.

The street was overcast again: the sun was hidden by heavy low clouds, a strong wind swayed the trees, from which they rustled anxiously, as if whispering something to each other. Despite the middle of summer, the weather was like autumn, as is often the case in St. Petersburg and its environs. Even the birds chirped somehow in autumn, anxiously and unevenly.