Prose

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.

A sunny fall day, and on the street has not yet been laid snow, while the leaves fall and have already turned into ashes, under the constant procession somewhere forever hurrying feet. Air is easily turned into a vapor at the frost, and bystanders were turned into penguins in their crazy winter shubah, sheepskin coat and dlinnopolyh coat. So always: something turns into something, one thought flows smoothly into another, as the autumn day, it seems the summer, if you do not look at people, penguins and zazhmuritsya for a moment from the bright sun. Here, for example, shadow and light, their fair play, without violating the rules of symmetry and harmony... Through this game, the house becomes an ordinary autumn in summer, joyful. Sunbeam looking out the window, the mirror reflecting the light window, and breaks into thousands of fragments and highlight. Nice, right? The same happens with the windows of passing cars, with shop windows and all my creature (just so long as the secret)!

Podezzhaet tram, which the sun appears more yellow than it really is. In his thin, but the cozy space is much warmer than on the street, and then the chorus of a gradual crescendo of summer arrives at forte: triumphs, vibrates in time with fun wiggle wagons, merges with the ring wheel. Some sweet laziness, languor spilled all over my body, and I smile, not knowing what: it may be that the whole life I have yet to come, the fact that I love and my mutual love, that life, my light-hearted, as in summer butterflies in a field, and even the fact that I live here and now, thanks to the Creator for having given me life, and, most importantly, learn to love and cherish her, lived for every moment (This is my secret)!

Solar power flow in my veins, like blood, I absorb it into himself and filled it enough, it was overfilled to the edges, I begin to emit it, like a little sun. Near me in the car going child who pyhtit and sing in time with a knock of wheels, it becomes like a tram, is becoming a very sunny tram, растворяясь in the world around us. That is how we go somewhere together: sun-man and man-tram in the autumn-summer day, complementing each other. With our mother? - Wonder if the sun is able to ask questions and answer them. Perhaps the desire to merge with something eternal, extraordinary, important? The desire to dissolve in existence beyond life, to become with him a whole, to love the whole world, every part of it as much as yourself, understand that we - are one...

Man-tram goes from the wagon, holding mother's hand and once again becoming a mere child. They are hiding in the lane, on the shadow side of the street and I saw their eyes. Tram turns left, and in front of me ryabit sun, flash between the trunks of trees. That's my stop.

I am easy to jump off to step on the ground, turn to the other side of tracks, and tram shadow moving my body.