breath [Theme] Page 4

Pauses in a conversation are sometimes more important than the entire conversation. This is exactly the moment when you can catch a piece of breath in the air. Breathing - it never deceives, it is the soul of the heart, but what could be more sincere?

She saw atoms dancing around the room. She knew exactly the temperature of her coffee. She saw and understood the chemical processes taking place in the cup. But it didn't seem like a thought. She didn't need to concentrate or strain in any way. It was as natural as breathing. And at the same time, a feeling of strength and power came. Her hand reached out for the sugar bag in the vase on the table. She held it gently between her thumb and forefinger and watched it disintegrate into static electricity.

Taking pictures means holding your breath.

- Well, hold your breath.

Just hold your breath and let me dry your tears.

We’ve tried it all, tried everything but giving in
I refuse to throw all that we have away
I still recall, I still remember better days
The endless search goes on to light the fire again
We can make a difference here
Just close your eyes and take this hand, my dear
Just hold your breath and let me dry your tears.

Мы пробовали всё, абсолютно всё, но не пробовали сдаться,
Я отказываюсь выбрасывать то, что у нас есть.
Я все ещё вспоминаю, все ещё помню лучшие дни,
Бесконечный поиск продолжается, чтобы зажечь огонь снова.
Мы можем всё изменить,
Просто закрой глаза и возьми меня за руку, дорогая.
Просто задержки дыхание и дай мне осушить твои слёзы.

- The first person who saw this face ... We all change when we think about it. Throughout our lives, we are different people. And that's okay, okay. We must move forward, but not forget who you were before. I will not forget a word from this life. Not a single day. I bow down, I will always remember that the Doctor was me.

Someone's breath. A piece of someone else's life ... But still, life, warmth ... Not an ossified body. What can one person give to another, except for a drop of warmth? And what could be more than that?

He is a poet without a face, like a single ocean.

This is a book about how for ten years the United States financed the Afghan war, training and arming hundreds of thousands of fighters, many of whom then turned their weapons against the Americans themselves. On September 11, 2001, the Americans were burned by the devilish porridge that they helped to brew in Afghanistan. But now Americans at least know how it all happened. When will we have the same books describing how our country was dragged into the Afghan adventure?

My love, my love, my love.

- Why did you say that? I'm going to be even more nervous now!

If emeralds, heated, would become lava, shining greenery of ivy greens, and all this would be poured into the bronchi, I would lose my breath exactly as I lost it in the sea behind some brick house, just standing and watching as the history of the universe unfolds in your pupils - and all of it is about trinkets, about trifles, without which God misses -
about the sladdog -
about love.

... I often talk to you at dawn, when the day is another serial short film, it is still in the editing department of the director of all times and peoples - Destiny. In the early morning, swinging open the window, I look up at the sky, throw back the black terry blanket and watch the breath turn into steam. It seems to me that only at this time can I be alone with my soul and white sheets of paper that humbly listen to my life story ...