Genur.art

And the sky is blue, but it's really cold. What is it in the world, what kind of mud? I dreamed today that I was riding the subway. There was one umbrella hanging there, I forgot to take it. And I got out at the bus stop, at my dacha: there are vegetable gardens everywhere, and no people. It was cool yesterday, and it even snowed. A week later, okay, I've already found the spring. Sitting on the Internet is harmful, for life, for the times. Everything flies imperceptibly, and smoothly, like a moan. And life is different. It's like a child's scream. Like a butterfly fluttering, toothless, like an old man. And between this fact, most do not see: Yourself, friends, and fear, for what has been gone for a long time. But no, there are still minutes left until dark. Fall asleep, close your eyes quietly... you see frost on the branches, and two chicks in the sky. When you open it, you see the sun, and there are two wings in the sky. Two black and black birds, carrying the dawn with them. Wash your face with water, look at the moon. Everything suddenly turned upside down, both heaven and earth. But again to the phone, suddenly a hand reaches out...