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Prose

Train of dreams

(Machine translation - Google)
I stood on the platform and looked into the distance. Gray autumn day: from the cold wind pierces you fine tremor, and upper sypletsya rain dust, for which you do not want to disclose umbrella.

The richest man in the world

(Machine translation - Google)
It was a hot afternoon. On the dusty road on the outskirts of Delhi was the lone pilgrim. Street boys ran after him and skipping merrily laughed. The few passers-bow sedomu sages and threw it in a bowl of coins. Counterclaims merchants traveling on wooden carts, zapryazhennyh mulami, suggested he try the corn cakes, or herbal tea.

The old man, with all agreed, took the handout or the proposed entertainment, nobody refused any good advice, no sweet words, but on the lips of his siyala mysterious smile rights held true knowledge.

I had become invisible!

(Machine translation - Google)
Maybe it's just bad luck or features of my life, but each time it enters the public space, I see something strange! People have somewhere amain, no differences in the way...

In rush hour, all hurry home or at work, rastalkivaya each other's elbows, neighbors will come to their feet and vyryvaya their bags from the center of the crowd with such extreme force that I am scared. I never noticed on the subway! However, land transport is the same thing happens - people go through me as if I was transparent! I have many times in uvorachivatsya from the rack, I meet people, otprygivat aside at the last moment to avoid collision! In such moments, I regret that I have - not the wall! Imagine how surprised the very bald uncle, who just yesterday I was not knocked down with the legs, make it a huge bumps on your forehead in a collision with the wall!

Model design: Art-Motor

Creation: Alexander Klabukov

©2005-2019 Ekaterina Yakovleva