breath [Theme] Page 2

August has its own special taste. He has mustard. Is always. It contains the tastes of wild herbs, wildflowers, ripened wheat, dew that burns colder feet, tired, scorching sun, overripe berries, fallen rotten apples, buzzing wasps, unfulfilled expectations, unjustified hopes, slightly broken plans, blurred dreams. August is a jam from wormwood, dry rose petals, cones, hot overripe pepper, rays of the sun, love, sadness, droplets of tears, unexpected smiles, fragile feelings, hot sand, on which it is impossible to resist a second, sea, sea, different - affectionate, morning, bubbling, foamy, quiet, wind, wind in anticipation of changes, the sounds of tired birds, you mix all this, cover your eyes, inhale the aroma and hold your breath a little near the vessel so as not to spill, because it is Yours. And Yours will remain with you, you put it gently, seal it in yourself and thank you. And let it be a little sad, it has its own depth.

If the Earth were swallowed up by a black hole, the entire planet would shrink to the size of a quarter. Anything within a black hole is beyond our knowledge. We can only speculate, but we will never know for sure. We know it's endless... (Inhale) like breathing! Close your eyes. And although you have heard this many times, focus on your breath. Knowing that the breath lasts forever. Count up to a million. Count on and get to a billion, an almost unimaginable number. You will not reach it, because by the billion, you will stop counting. What was the point.

Kiyoaki was thinking about the tides, the changing of the seasons, how he too would soon grow old, and suddenly he caught his breath. He was never seduced by the wisdom of old age. I wish I could die young... And, if possible, without suffering. Refined death, to make it look like a bright silk kimono, dropped from the shoulders on the table, suddenly slid to the dark floor.

I should not pretend to be blind in order to listen to the breath of tenderness!

And a little noticeable whisper of the sea.

The morning is like a milky thick veil, smoothly covering the viscous glossy night with a light beige foam. Whether it's clouds or the breath of a drink brewed by our senses on the awakening solar fire. A breath of wind - and yesterday's sunset embers become crimson scarlet again, a moment passes and the magic of the night flows smoothly into a coffee cup, leaving an insinuating trail of tart aroma with a characteristic spicy bitterness and a bouquet of candied citrus fruits, merged with drops of buckwheat honey, pecan nuts and dark chocolate. A light breath extends the sky exactly as far as the current one can fit in it. The rays shift quietly behind the window glass, afraid to disturb the living magic in the thin snow-white palms of porcelain, it is in them that magic and mystery, depth and something new that has not yet happened are born. Lips freeze on the rim, as if the cloud finds a secret orbit at the highest point of gravity. The dance of silk drops flowing into a smooth and light smoke. All the concubines of the world will not be able to express this transparency, weightlessness and harmony of the silence of the night and the tonality of the day with their skillful bodies. A white cloud of foam settles with a newly born milky-pearl pearl on awakening feelings, leaving at the bottom a thick palette of future twilight, keeping secrets, images, visions. Light clouds and tart thick, and between them, in someone's palms, coffee life.

People are stupid! They begin to understand how beautiful life is when they feel the breath of death.

I will show you the beauty of the present, the beauty of the moment without past and future. You will know the inspiration of escape, you will know the beauty of the world, you will see the ocean surf, you will feel the breath of the trade winds and the scents of the jungle. Not? Want to sit in a quiet corner watching TV?

At that moment, the thought flashed through my mind that my situation was not at all hopeless yet, and I was just killing myself. I mustered all my will and "looked fear in the face."

loyalty.

Is there another case in which the pleasant possibility of the most intimate relationship could continue for so long without becoming bored with monotony? And when is this mutual friendly intimacy born freer, more natural and more convenient? When does her face touch yours more often? When does her hair happen to mix with yours more often, her cheeks to touch your cheeks, her eyes to meet your eyes? Of all the moments of happiness, this is the only time when you can breathe her breath for several hours, feel the heat of her cheeks flaring up and passing into you, follow every gentle vibration of her chest, listen to her every weak breath, as if one breath revives your hearts. No doubt, only at this time or never do we personify or experience in ourselves the love of the primordial couple of the human race, when she walked with angels in paradise until the fruits of the fateful tree darkened the purity of her heart.

She liked to feel his touch, to sit so close that she could smell either his shampoo or aftershave, hear his slightly labored, agitated breathing.

that Heli replaces blood.

That's it, you save me from the cold.