Prose
My gurus
(Machine translation - Google)
In the Old City is a wonderful place. Along the tram line kilometer first two runs the cemetery, and then begins City park. I went down by as much as two stops before, because I love to explore new places to wander through the narrow streets, there are ice cream and whistle different motivchiki! The park surrounded by a high fence, you can enter through the huge iron gates, pozelenevshie of time and damp... But I have one such oddity. I love to enter the civilian non-traditional ways of the place, especially if it is possible to cut off the path! A tear in the fence - and, of course, such a chance, I could not miss!
Man-sun
(Machine translation - Google)
It is as simple as a knock-pocket inside out. It can be quite empty, and can be filled with hundreds of necessary and unnecessary detail, of which I can compose a symphony. It does not matter from a person to his story, the form is form and content of its transmission through the shell or behind the walls of the sacred vessel... It will be about me, about you, about him, about anything... But to the point.