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September 29 2008

In autumn I always in trouble, I used to have. This time the purse was stolen. Wind from the north, the soul confusion, cold premonition, but no coat.

At such moments, I now think that everything is predetermined. And the disease, and love and everything was already on bad infinity no getting nowhere. Remember how Blok "Night. Street. Lantern Pharmacy '... "Pharmacy. Street. Lantern." Reality reflected in the water.

One of our life - an accurate reflection of the other. Drown pointless. Hurry, too. Die - then start all over again.

Nights on Peter walking ghosts. That the souls of those who are waiting for their turn in the endless chrede rebirth. They know everything and so sad. Not even sad, and wildly nostalgic for autumn. I, too, probably, was once among them.

World - there are an infinite film - the same repetitive movie, delivered by someone very lonely. And the director wants us to partake of the universal despair of his loneliness. Each of us has his own film without film, his own personal camera in this great picture.

We reflect. World in general - one continuous reflection.

R.S. Sorry for the lyrics, but the purse and really pathetic. 13000, after all!

Marina Suranov


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