tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78151786959761048282024-02-06T19:47:47.790-08:00I'll Follow The Sunnofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-71958350797061805672015-02-15T14:34:00.001-08:002015-02-26T10:31:18.994-08:00lukewarmFebruaries tend to bring along that blue sky, spring melodies and freshness. And hope, of course. All the things I need so much.<br />
<a href="http://nn.lv/l8c0" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://nn.lv/l8c0" height="112" width="200" /></a>And you know, it's so wonderful to feel yourself alive again after two months of darkness and hopelessness, only sporadically flavoured by inforgettable holiday impressions.<br />
Now I feel that I can be happy again, just all this pure happiness. I went to the most beautiful Norwegian city to admire the sea, the mountains and the architecture. First day it was such a wonderful spring, next day - such an incredible storm, but I survived, I just was so happy to feel all this 25m/s wind, so alive.<br />
I have been travelled alone a lot, and I still don't know whether it is for my own best, I still miss some people I see so rarely now, but all these lonely trips also work as therapy. I have so much to feel, all that refills me like fuel I need so deeply. To become memories and stories. <i>We're all stories, in the end.</i><br />
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Well, anyway, I almost completely forgot how just three days of freedom, air, wind in my hair can make me happy. And then what leaves is just to find your old playlists, all the music that was with you all these years, followed you, your sad and happy days, your smiles remembering all the wonderful people you met, lightness and light. Even Mondays can be happy, if you find them proper soundtracks, how could I actually forget?<br />
And I can already hear the spring. Every morning I look at the tall pine-trees that grow outside my house and hear the birds singing.<br />
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Just as usual:</div>
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<i>Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter</i></div>
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<i>Little darling, it feel like years since it's been here.</i></div>
<i><br /></i>
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<i><b>Here comes the Sun, and I say it's all right.</b></i></div>
<br />nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-65119462822626485252014-06-18T06:35:00.000-07:002015-02-15T14:35:31.520-08:00Enjoy the silenceAfter the return from <i>the Flanders fields</i>, I decided to write more again (yes, not only all my science-related stuff I'm spending much time on, but just more impressionistic little texts, <i>hälsningar</i> to all my forgotten blogs and stuff).<br />
It's really hard to feel that time's so incredibly merciless, so that the memories of the past are going deeper and deeper. It's hard to believe that I was so young and open to the world many years ago, and now I can't even say I'm really experienced and grown-up.<br />
Some triggers, anyway, work very well, as filling me with happiness is concerned. While left tête-à-tête with nature, all I basically feel just pure happiness. Sometimes small towns can also be nice, peaceful and friendly (and there are such places even in Stockholm and Riga). I love Bruges, for instance. It's all that pure happiness, especially calm chilly evenings, when you can climb the hill with the mill, turn to the right and watch the full moon, close your eyes for a second and feel all this blessed calmness covering you. Wonderful. Lakes are good. Sunsets are good. Big rivers and water, actually. The sea, of course.<br />
So good luck, my life. There are moments when the time stops and I feel happy, just beyond any doubt. It seems that for these moments I'm truly alive. Perhaps I'm just living when I feel something that is real and lasts sort of forever, like the sea or the forest. Occasional bursts of misanthropy and overall tendency for introversion just turn me towards something lacking all unnecessary noise and bustle: I don't know why, but I'm often so tired of that,<br />
I enjoy listening to the francophones.<br />
Or live classical music performances (well, I'm exaggerating speaking about only classical music here, but live and choral/symphonic/orchestral should capture the idea).<br />
Or just silence.<br />
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<br />nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-62675496490367726712013-03-26T11:10:00.001-07:002013-03-26T11:10:43.876-07:00Danmark<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtScPhyphenhyphenhPZ_TYAY5F8dam5y27sa5WupxAk7kP0j1S7qJH9OG9W1rkXQOY_HZLMYKnrVI6S7UhDaN8ia8zzERZcbHKfRhK7bZKNBHPU_2pnJZDYbqX8AtcsF2Ghm__43wFC7FQiVQuebJg/s1600/IMG_0027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtScPhyphenhyphenhPZ_TYAY5F8dam5y27sa5WupxAk7kP0j1S7qJH9OG9W1rkXQOY_HZLMYKnrVI6S7UhDaN8ia8zzERZcbHKfRhK7bZKNBHPU_2pnJZDYbqX8AtcsF2Ghm__43wFC7FQiVQuebJg/s200/IMG_0027.JPG" width="200" /></a>My winter started with going west, my spring started with going south. Who knows what I will choose for the proper beginning of summer?<br />
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In any case, travelling in full moonish time, full of spring air (how misleading it was, March showed us later) and full. Now I know that one can meet a hare in the very centre of Stockholm, very charming early in the morning, quite silent, strict, but so springish that you want to spring somewhere to share it with others.<br />
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I just like meeting my good friends. I feel somewhat lonely in Sweden, even in spite of having wonderful colleagues, etc. My heart's in the far lands, my heart is not here.<br />
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To put it shortly: the sea (exciting, I crossed The Bridge - it can be compared only to the way to Kronstadt, probably - blue space _everywhere_), the blue sky, the feeling of freedom, the first yellow flowers in the dirtyish soil, Kastellet, "aquabuses" and friends.<br />
Oh, wow.<br />
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Three days is not enough for this city, you know. I was pleasantly amazed. Even the wind doesn't spoil the overall impression of this another-flat-Baltic-city-but-even-on-the-island.<br />
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<br />nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-30021002005273390192013-02-24T11:59:00.001-08:002013-02-24T11:59:18.562-08:00My church village<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOvAcThEmIX1Q0mHKcZJF-lbPCSXA-RDykV8mKPSgQuTz8o-ePSX0zV04oag-q0CAT49YpnAtHvX2tRFNhaC50FB0Sp-tCRqn9d9dYokXPDea8IPUDqNSMFFG72ycAITGYIuzsxXfmuE/s1600/IMG_0031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOvAcThEmIX1Q0mHKcZJF-lbPCSXA-RDykV8mKPSgQuTz8o-ePSX0zV04oag-q0CAT49YpnAtHvX2tRFNhaC50FB0Sp-tCRqn9d9dYokXPDea8IPUDqNSMFFG72ycAITGYIuzsxXfmuE/s200/IMG_0031.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
What a nice day (in spite of its relative non-productivity, well). Had a one-hour <i>promenade</i>, the weather was great, an ideal weather for February and winter, actually. It was almost before the sunset, I haven't done it for a long time, unfortunately. The old church with the graveyard, so still, so wonderful. The wooden roof slope - I was slightly inattentive, <i>eller</i>?<br />
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Great.<br />
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First, I thought about going to the part I haven't been before - though the lake tempted me much, but I thought that it worth not spending time, as I couldn't see much before the sunset.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXZuQR8eG3bbaHnpztp9p7C06gzCyA1DD0W5ltxTwIFC01ADLIhVfKmRSeNeAhIASXJZ-7LGlQsT5B7EZOfOpXbX3GdyUXQ4y0D2UCxclIeMDZUuefk6gJHI8vWNwAYB7hkkeVdlbsY4/s1600/IMG_0033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXZuQR8eG3bbaHnpztp9p7C06gzCyA1DD0W5ltxTwIFC01ADLIhVfKmRSeNeAhIASXJZ-7LGlQsT5B7EZOfOpXbX3GdyUXQ4y0D2UCxclIeMDZUuefk6gJHI8vWNwAYB7hkkeVdlbsY4/s200/IMG_0033.JPG" width="150" /></a>Well, I went further to the north, and was rewarded. Two deer ran across the road, they appeared from nowhere, but I was SO HAPPY to see them. Yeah, they live somewhere in the neighbourhood, hurrah!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifRKsmlUWBY7Jypb1ysTX17PZtNxVosLxL0fAxODPDrgAvNRqg4GzcnA0Qj_6maeFnPxVUcnwe1EtyjbLYz3ncRTa84GRDlU4GXZ5M4IDscKQFkW3tkdw4aYpf-7FZlRwEBh04Iezyna0/s1600/IMG_0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifRKsmlUWBY7Jypb1ysTX17PZtNxVosLxL0fAxODPDrgAvNRqg4GzcnA0Qj_6maeFnPxVUcnwe1EtyjbLYz3ncRTa84GRDlU4GXZ5M4IDscKQFkW3tkdw4aYpf-7FZlRwEBh04Iezyna0/s320/IMG_0043.JPG" width="240" /></a>And then I unexpectedly came across this witness of old times:<br />
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By the way, one Swedish mile equals somewhat about 10 kilometers, so to see some other ones I should go for quite a long time, I suppose. Or at least be aware of other neighbouring "highways".<br />
<br />It would be really nice to walk more during these holidays (we have no lectures, though I have my Swedish course on Tuesday and tons of stuff to do), so-called <i>sportlov </i>(sport holidays). To be a bit more sporty :))<br />
Well, if the weather will be so nice these days, why not, actually? I have enough spots to see and explore in our lovely Runriket.<br />
<br />Kul.nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-76547449002905350602012-11-08T18:04:00.000-08:002012-11-08T18:04:19.605-08:00glueMy life is much-much more stable and calm than a couple of years ago, I think. But maybe more boring? (without lots of those emotions typical of a youngster having some problems)<br /><br /><i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;">The world is mine but for a time</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;">Please hear the love I bring for you to follow</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;">Come with me, with diamonds in the sea</span></i><br /><br />I don't know, I just so tried to save my nerves, my something-that-wanted-to-be-safe, to keep that and a part of my soul and/or life. I found something brilliant, wonderful, good indeed. Probably not so brilliant, I don't know, just something I'm really happy to have.<br />
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The trickiest thing is to realize that some parts of the past are almost completely forgotten or at least not perceived as real. Though they happened to me, though I can remember tears and emotions - if I just try to repair those years in my mind. So strange. I could not believe I will be free and happy again in those days.<br />
It feels so strange.<br />
<br />
I lost some stability, and I became flexible, I became stronger, I became more mature. I just tried. I tried to move one step further.<br />
I succeeded, I think.<br />
<br />
I just changed something.<br />
Something.<br />
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And I got two more cities in return.<br />
Two wonderful, fantastic cities and a bunch of great people.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjodVw9SgjsZCgra1Soro6bRk3ieIOY3bCcOv9oOb5zQNH0QvH7n7WF2chANPp5fm_TlU5eYq2kckTYVYq78gVviEiT9iFuFfr6v1TS_2eUC1FA3C52uhiED1mU-it_xMf4Erwk9LwbPkY/s1600/IMG_0075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjodVw9SgjsZCgra1Soro6bRk3ieIOY3bCcOv9oOb5zQNH0QvH7n7WF2chANPp5fm_TlU5eYq2kckTYVYq78gVviEiT9iFuFfr6v1TS_2eUC1FA3C52uhiED1mU-it_xMf4Erwk9LwbPkY/s320/IMG_0075.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
It was worth it, painful, but still.<br />
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Nevertheless, some things just make me smile, as they remind me of the time I tried to survive depression and tough things.<br />
With efforts of finding good people and wonderful, light feelings.<br />
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Some songs, for example. Music still holds those emotions. Keeps them. Probably forever.<br />
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<i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;">And I love you</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;">I've never loved someone like I do</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;">I love you</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;">The world is yours if you want me to</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;">I love you</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: tahoma, arial, verdana, sans-serif, 'Lucida Sans'; font-size: 11px;">I've never loved someone like I do</span></i><br />
<br />nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-20328949885446551752012-06-18T03:50:00.001-07:002012-06-18T03:50:17.678-07:00y' a des moments<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Look what a sky I have.</div>
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Look what a sun I have.
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Look what a river I have.</div>
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Look what a city I have.</div>
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<br />nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-40523795618826036552012-05-27T14:52:00.002-07:002012-05-27T14:52:58.480-07:00There'll be another page.<br />
One day.<br />
Soon.nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-43513740308959291362011-10-31T18:14:00.000-07:002011-10-31T18:14:22.947-07:00S.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Do you know this feeling: oh God, just tomorrow in the evening (lol, rather in the night) I will be walking in an uknown district of an almost uknown city? Well, I have not travelled WELL for about three months already and I really think I deserve it after passing 4 exams :)<br />
Another strange thing is that this city is the third one after St.Petersburg and Riga I consider to be the essence of the Baltics. MUCH water. Beautiful architecture. Nordic and strict. Common historical background - just remember that Swedes lived in Ingermanland and so on. I think I like Stockholm.<br />
From my last trip, only a few things survived - a blue transport card, several booklets from the university and this postcard. Even the only two photos I could capture on my mobile have gone with it. R.I.P.<br />
It's a little bit sad that I failed with a Swedish trip this June - I'll just miss the blossom of lilacs and their scent.<br />
Nevertheless, let it be - the grey sky of Stockholm, deep waters of lakes and the sea, kind people - and<br />
I won't be alone there, anyway. This is quite a bonus, I think. Plus a great challenge: how to survive with a minimum of money.<br />
A big minus - I still don't speak Swedish AT ALL, which seems quite sad for me - it's the only country I have been to earlier having such a problem. Such a strange feeling.<br />
And then I'll wait again - maybe I will come back in August and it will become my third place of residence, who knows.</div>nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-46358001004833139162011-10-17T10:04:00.000-07:002011-10-25T03:03:39.214-07:00genuine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I took a walk down your old street</span></i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmx-V8QM510XqE3-j8qaMQQvku4_7X_O2BPNVRtC8Hjdl93eLwqsNMOXZYpzLQmxWKhO1BeT3EGvnqsXK7IWBTC3ey-R7JR57unHg5aHdF2khhUkQdSVmbrF0uTehLawI8c76tfK1teUc/s1600/P1090677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmx-V8QM510XqE3-j8qaMQQvku4_7X_O2BPNVRtC8Hjdl93eLwqsNMOXZYpzLQmxWKhO1BeT3EGvnqsXK7IWBTC3ey-R7JR57unHg5aHdF2khhUkQdSVmbrF0uTehLawI8c76tfK1teUc/s200/P1090677.JPG" width="148" /></a></div>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Down past the places we used to meet</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Trouble in mind trouble in souls</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Won't you let your feelings go?</span></i><br />
<br />
I don't mean that I like autumn. On the contrary, I'm afraid of it, and it hurts me when I suddenly realize that summer has gone. However, maybe the time has come to perceive everything around me just deeper than ever. Maybe this is that well-known phenomenon called happiness.<br />
Anyway, I am a convinced ascetic: the blue sky is too little, but too much simultaneously. Sometimes enough to feel happy.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tiutIR86R7mjVUUjOH1yFA4_QB_idKVWUaK6Br3vyNTJQ0_kzouLjJBXl-lmm4pLwTv31LUGD-C-Wch3DlyVMMQ57cv_52OoKPQJoHYvbD42jWPS_7tDVVRPeK3vDndfigaEYKONYMg/s1600/P1090686.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tiutIR86R7mjVUUjOH1yFA4_QB_idKVWUaK6Br3vyNTJQ0_kzouLjJBXl-lmm4pLwTv31LUGD-C-Wch3DlyVMMQ57cv_52OoKPQJoHYvbD42jWPS_7tDVVRPeK3vDndfigaEYKONYMg/s200/P1090686.JPG" width="149" /></a><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I didn't mean to disappoint you</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I'm just sorry that I had to</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I didn't mean to disappoint you</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I'm just sorry that I did</span></i><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbclhbTsM1XiYxnszcXFQ5zZ4R5tF_wvnDAl0gdGe1uTTz8Ch2IiIriAKh2PF9kCmTOUkn48jLzP7PHLvv9_nwnwjxln12RDzaYD73RRJqoI2202Q4hn0OlAJBcZ3ogH1_L5Ou8XxqsI/s1600/P1090680.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbclhbTsM1XiYxnszcXFQ5zZ4R5tF_wvnDAl0gdGe1uTTz8Ch2IiIriAKh2PF9kCmTOUkn48jLzP7PHLvv9_nwnwjxln12RDzaYD73RRJqoI2202Q4hn0OlAJBcZ3ogH1_L5Ou8XxqsI/s200/P1090680.JPG" width="148" /></a>It is so nice to come back. It just turns out so amazing to have memories. And to re-open them. It's so funny to long for <i>THE</i> <i>river. </i>To say "Hello hello" to your beloved streets and other places. However, I am not just a simple observer, I like people as well. That was a nice and fruitful weekend, actually. At least I would say so. Not just because I could not to think about the dative, philosophy, research plans and so on. Sometimes motion is essence, the essence of life and the life itself, you know.<br />
<br />
It's a sort of a fairy-tale, but hush, don't tell anybody.<br />
And yeah, I think <i>once a month</i> is not enough, though.</div>nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-51743418325144140942011-09-26T15:36:00.000-07:002011-09-26T15:40:34.153-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4DXPzHJHcZtN4aAZhty8sMfSXcntAVQF37T2vczom_TKk9MH6HmxzioowDgZDqFoVrSSa3zfIbGElPJtzz_dznOo9iQb9ZIUlJJvsxM9rs0Yd5AYVPfQk1jHq3jyHiDsJ55RrLBuk1Hc/s1600/P1070236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4DXPzHJHcZtN4aAZhty8sMfSXcntAVQF37T2vczom_TKk9MH6HmxzioowDgZDqFoVrSSa3zfIbGElPJtzz_dznOo9iQb9ZIUlJJvsxM9rs0Yd5AYVPfQk1jHq3jyHiDsJ55RrLBuk1Hc/s320/P1070236.JPG" width="240" /></a>Seems that I haven't written here for ages. Anyway, since May, 2010 a lot of things have changed. I could not count all of them. My 5 Latvian months are at the distance of about a year now, though they have a good and convincing continuation. Another velvet season, finally , has reached me - what if I hadn't come there for the first time? Oh no, I could live without ALL THIS STUFF I have now. Sometimes it makes me smile. All I could say in Latvian in the end of August in 2009 was "paldies".<br />
The risk with all those documents was worth my efforts. It was funny. Friendly autumn and winter with friends. Full of life and love.<br />
Open your eyes.<br />
<br />
September was rainy and cold last year - and warm and sunny this year. I'm so used to pass pleasant days in Latvia and Lithuania now. Home, sweet home - yeah, my sweet Saint-Petersburg, sure, my beloved Riga. Of course, Vilnius, I remember I can come back any day. ANY.<br />
<br />
Cool people, though not many, but they should not be many. Nice stories, nice events, nice talks. I bless my life.<br />
The story changes - people go away. They are close, but away - simultaneously. Such strange feelings. When summer passes, I wanna cry. I don't know why, summer is just the time of the season, it is so incredibly warm, kind, emotional, fruitful. And it just goes away.</div>
nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-54334887727180572442010-05-24T07:07:00.000-07:002010-05-24T07:20:57.672-07:001<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNTDU9tQf4cJYfWatK2fNwPUeu75wiBA1D0APmv_WPnemtBAAI7zgcxYYV7eqjsQbKDb2Z0Riihv7ROX1LFwSX7eVYJLUDzhs9vIji5KZiVEhT5twL2v2krfL_dYf_01-P0D3p5QtRyLw/s1600/IMGP0245.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNTDU9tQf4cJYfWatK2fNwPUeu75wiBA1D0APmv_WPnemtBAAI7zgcxYYV7eqjsQbKDb2Z0Riihv7ROX1LFwSX7eVYJLUDzhs9vIji5KZiVEhT5twL2v2krfL_dYf_01-P0D3p5QtRyLw/s200/IMGP0245.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474840078575572898" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMMYzkvq3jruM7YVimtpUqItPbBtKN6Rt6glcti5mEWi_NGz4XEBvDlHirbrQrfnSiGGrxfyq1oBSF1UmLS5Mm1YuhZtsupIVHuGFm3GoMnCQHPGTO2Dc4gvs2JXXa7Up_NMdMZBA5gac/s1600/IMGP0249.JPG"></a>In my dream I saw that everything was good enough. <div>But all the people are just characters. Episodic.</div><div>I don't like this thought, it's very sad.</div><div>And it's not easy to stop the process of making from them your own story. The most difficult thing ever - how to leave them free. To watch them equal to themselves. So wonderful, so interesting, so deep. So independent of you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Please stop.</div><div>Please try to become adult and serious.</div><div><br /></div><div>And you will never be aware of whether you make another one happier or not.</div><div>Whether you bother another one or not.</div><div>But then what can you do at all??? Just to observe?</div><div>You're so helpless.</div><div>So sad.</div>nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-45149692625210559852010-03-10T12:12:00.000-08:002010-03-10T12:13:34.310-08:00Everything is good enough.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">It's the time of the season for loving, </span>yeah<span style="font-style: italic;">.</span>nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-45598778578362802012010-02-02T01:54:00.000-08:002010-02-02T02:20:29.889-08:00Des bêtises, toujo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPx0xPyFgyyJNQpX6uQqH625XblcdpV9x1b7RG30MOvdfikNPHRgV7uxaRAcnJXAzeC5m0NCKTGBozOVOVF-H21bPV4wACoAVOMZURdcHBU4lYMDUe6yglA6v7tFVuxIrR8nBzTAXwOqQ/s1600-h/IMG_1340.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPx0xPyFgyyJNQpX6uQqH625XblcdpV9x1b7RG30MOvdfikNPHRgV7uxaRAcnJXAzeC5m0NCKTGBozOVOVF-H21bPV4wACoAVOMZURdcHBU4lYMDUe6yglA6v7tFVuxIrR8nBzTAXwOqQ/s200/IMG_1340.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433582603551134466" /></a>urs des bêtises.<div><br /></div><div>I don't know whether there's at least one thing available to make me cleverer.</div><div>No.</div><div>Seems like I have spoiled everything this time. It's possible.</div><div>But I'm soooo tired of trying to do anything - just <i>anything </i>- for myself and by myself. Only.</div><div>In vain.</div><div>I don't have any powers to study here, I'm not able to try anything by myself, having obscure aims, no advantages, being so stupid and negligent. I'm tired of all these cloud-castles, of fear of speaking with clever people, of having no chance of prospering and achievement.</div><div><br /></div><div>If I hadn't my family and my friends... I don't even want to imagine what I would have felt.</div><div>But ok, my only desire at the moment is to leave traces in the lives of others. Just small and almost imperceptible.</div><div><br /></div><div>For nothing else matters.</div>nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-39674432489394031582009-12-28T22:21:00.000-08:002009-12-28T22:24:33.596-08:00Thank you 2009.nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-39992376502366429032009-12-19T11:54:00.000-08:002009-12-19T16:00:21.256-08:00<table style="width: auto;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/bt1qCZ6_u5nTXrQn8abRbg?authkey=Gv1sRgCLbxzJzEg9S2dQ&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSP_3v4yeZqw55l8u4WzmeFWwiPC-ZZhuRdO0RJq3a3BW74yJejm-ZS27hxBUQuPelGjJ5WlDCnMroHdlHs6EA5QAykW1RcEsBIQ5q8rbmlXQfGgfwmjESzYKQ299FKajo0BfkIE28Fq0/s144/IMG_4529.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: right;">Альбом: <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/nofpernat/ILlFollowTheSun?authkey=Gv1sRgCLbxzJzEg9S2dQ&feat=embedwebsite">I'll Follow The Sun</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ok, I've just moved. Let's say I moved here 2 years ago, but I still have no home. Strictly speaking, I have several places I could call home, but no such a place that would be </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >mine</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">'m too nervous. Nervous and ill. This city, my beloved, doesn't love me anymore. I lose everything: I lose most intimate things. I don't know what to do: everything seems to pass away so unexpectedly, so quickly.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Seems as if I had fabricated an illusory world. But it is so sad. I don't know what to do. To dust the traces of the past?</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Oh.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Do. Not. Check. Your. Mailbox.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Do. Not. Think. About. T</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">he. Future.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">You have nothing. Nothing at all.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Not in my line... Not in my line?!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Completely confused.</span>nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-1922026421941170412009-11-29T00:52:00.000-08:002009-11-29T03:38:20.417-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gwXpmou4Yype43n3afXOtR62L6c5dAEwetqLpLgqZXZJNPyXtbkzSYsDEGurv_GrScOk07j1GWhUIhHgCx6UJdCQg05Cs5sfqjhX1vwtHqfsu8aZYlTECFEayBcip7D2XzGaqXyOMIM/s1600/SP_A0165.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gwXpmou4Yype43n3afXOtR62L6c5dAEwetqLpLgqZXZJNPyXtbkzSYsDEGurv_GrScOk07j1GWhUIhHgCx6UJdCQg05Cs5sfqjhX1vwtHqfsu8aZYlTECFEayBcip7D2XzGaqXyOMIM/s200/SP_A0165.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409488140557455746" border="0" /></a>The winter has come. Don't ask the calendar, don't look in your window, it doesn't matter, 'cause it has come indeed.<br />I adore the baltic wind, I'm mad about piercing through the distances, I'm happy when in the night I'm going to the city of my spontaneous happiness.<br /><br />So much happiness for one day. Everything is so healingly simple.<br />I remember.<br /><br />The banks of the Daugava - how happy I was when it met me in the night, beautiful, strong, calm, shining.<br />I'm so happy to look in the eyes, to smile and to be simple.<br />Just simpler.nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-44569161558029931632009-10-20T12:05:00.000-07:002009-10-20T12:11:51.984-07:00recursion?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PEsHoHz4NLqY-9O9lYsN5s9kCY7kAN-YpjWEwzAQ0In7boPoqdVsmQ8LdosYGVrLxzDpBgv75wXDgDSDf6az7chUhnQj9Ly0qAIkirN0XLRk2k5CBeE4as0_LjYCaTjPa1wUHV7HShQ/s1600-h/IMG_4762.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PEsHoHz4NLqY-9O9lYsN5s9kCY7kAN-YpjWEwzAQ0In7boPoqdVsmQ8LdosYGVrLxzDpBgv75wXDgDSDf6az7chUhnQj9Ly0qAIkirN0XLRk2k5CBeE4as0_LjYCaTjPa1wUHV7HShQ/s200/IMG_4762.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394761865575256178" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Yandex has just proposed me to search for "бархатный сезон". He doesn't know probably that nothing can be more "velvet" and warm.<br />All this sadness is caused by the fact of impotence in front of The Past.<br />It's just in the past.<br />And I'm here.<br />Sooo saaaad.nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-47064643680248782492009-10-07T16:11:00.000-07:002009-12-19T12:15:35.191-08:00in a timely manner :)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYxGhegEE9g5YSd0wHOsW9PO32379HYTi0QMGWghGGiMll4D37ZNM0t4pmPQttVFeuMHUAposbfc8sZYylGLMKn3_AX0nowE3tb5IsZzRF3R1g4I8YN5Fr_PVq2htzA6Fl9ZKJ1zP8FEw/s1600-h/IMG_4747.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYxGhegEE9g5YSd0wHOsW9PO32379HYTi0QMGWghGGiMll4D37ZNM0t4pmPQttVFeuMHUAposbfc8sZYylGLMKn3_AX0nowE3tb5IsZzRF3R1g4I8YN5Fr_PVq2htzA6Fl9ZKJ1zP8FEw/s200/IMG_4747.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390000446562445122" border="0" /></a>Gosh, what a wonderful year!<br />Living is more like an adventure, a long adventure. Still living, still enjoying it.<br /><br />Light is inside us, the world is made of light. You just should notice it, oh yeah.<br /><s>Love will tear us apart again?..</s><br /><br />Usual is boring, fairy-tales are inside us. They are hand-made.<br />It's so easy, indeed.<br /><br />Ever fallen in love with someone?<br /><br />Believe in you, believe in people.nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-47163878705565778682009-08-07T12:58:00.000-07:002009-08-07T13:04:16.478-07:00<div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFmAk6ZprY8Hm_1Dy5bf4JKHM5TgkhYpd_INmnBH1HB77_xF8WnHLtsUCUQB6MhAQG9P8eBweh-agqlainpXxXIrucCrfmRLcRoqE3mDt5I6MYeuLPBW4haChVQQK_9cUzyaELbCeYNds/s1600-h/IMG_4736.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFmAk6ZprY8Hm_1Dy5bf4JKHM5TgkhYpd_INmnBH1HB77_xF8WnHLtsUCUQB6MhAQG9P8eBweh-agqlainpXxXIrucCrfmRLcRoqE3mDt5I6MYeuLPBW4haChVQQK_9cUzyaELbCeYNds/s200/IMG_4736.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367315151818421858" border="0" /></a><br /></div>I do love gifted men. It even seems to be absurd. I've almost forgotten how it feels.<br /><br />I can't find proper words to express myself.<br />It's painful (though just a little bit) to watch and to be so dull.<br />Overwhelming August. Breathtaking.<br />I'm afraid of losing it.<br /><br />And Bill Evans and Jim Hall make me so calm and so still. Cool jazz is a sort of meditation, I think.nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-56704845131769603072009-07-29T12:31:00.000-07:002009-10-27T00:47:38.411-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH5sFmYqoPpZj7FzKGIoTUK-7LHq9tpRhQJ8uc-stdG8AvpaVA7NMFoAm3lk7bkIusXZ_74iRMvWXvdnJ-BjX7j2PVUL23t-eSE4uaaZog8aqRFZwm8o9fwz9vvUoIFragT1cVhJAjVWA/s1600-h/%D0%B2%D1%8C%D1%8E%D0%BD%D0%BE%D0%BA2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH5sFmYqoPpZj7FzKGIoTUK-7LHq9tpRhQJ8uc-stdG8AvpaVA7NMFoAm3lk7bkIusXZ_74iRMvWXvdnJ-BjX7j2PVUL23t-eSE4uaaZog8aqRFZwm8o9fwz9vvUoIFragT1cVhJAjVWA/s200/%D0%B2%D1%8C%D1%8E%D0%BD%D0%BE%D0%BA2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363969014956335602" border="0" /></a>Haven't been here for ages. Seems to be so unreal.<br />This July has been great, sure. Love will tear us apart again, lol.<br />Finnish - Finland - Emperor Paul - Gatchina, I love you.<br />Still imprudent and a bit crazy. July is hot like a real heart of summer.<br /><br />Red and white, and green, of course.<br />The rhythms of Buena Vista Social Club and Manu Chao. Those very eyes. The songs of this summer. Green fields, a taste of icecream, wonderful old ladies of Ingria. Bluebells, yellow flowers, parks, ponds, trees, hills.<br />Carpe diem.<br /><br />Miun kanssain.nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-69152932056161581032009-07-04T10:58:00.000-07:002009-07-04T11:01:33.387-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVqM0OV-k3FHfcQU-eNe-gM2sxFwifcp6Cj8X4YkPoK4rRmeuo9ZCZKvPDPhiTk41au55bHXTdkivheJfAecV9QMnPo5vvBr-pZ9Mq8sa5jfF56qxKGKmIzBffF1fhOQWhFPtrDSaGKUo/s1600-h/IMG_4416.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVqM0OV-k3FHfcQU-eNe-gM2sxFwifcp6Cj8X4YkPoK4rRmeuo9ZCZKvPDPhiTk41au55bHXTdkivheJfAecV9QMnPo5vvBr-pZ9Mq8sa5jfF56qxKGKmIzBffF1fhOQWhFPtrDSaGKUo/s200/IMG_4416.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354666441413388706" border="0" /></a><br />And I'll follow the Sun this summer again.<br />Amazing.<br /><br /><s><span style="font-style: italic;">Love comes tumbling.</span></s>nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-6014013972893605262009-06-27T02:36:00.000-07:002010-06-24T14:58:51.578-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKFZv8abiBi8jrd5ax6vHr0E-_1EpVziDD6kqEciLHu5qPBk0T5Fjfw3lK610AEf58riS3xgjrP2HBtxa6LmsXhMuI0h-FuGBcXpEe69rGBW64WnehbGtmoMHedqXIQ0DfawTpmyIY1ZU/s1600-h/%D0%9A%D0%BE%D0%BF%D0%B8%D1%8F+IMG_4250.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 121px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKFZv8abiBi8jrd5ax6vHr0E-_1EpVziDD6kqEciLHu5qPBk0T5Fjfw3lK610AEf58riS3xgjrP2HBtxa6LmsXhMuI0h-FuGBcXpEe69rGBW64WnehbGtmoMHedqXIQ0DfawTpmyIY1ZU/s200/%D0%9A%D0%BE%D0%BF%D0%B8%D1%8F+IMG_4250.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351939157782294386" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">If all the statues in the world</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Would turn to flesh with teeth of pearl</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Would they be kind enough to comfort me</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The setting sun is set in stone</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And it remains for me alone</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">To carve my own and set it free</span><br /><br />Never come back, never.<br />The setting sun tears your soul into several parts.<br />For me alone.<br />Alone.nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-79905774973905700232009-06-08T09:47:00.000-07:002009-06-08T09:55:13.560-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcs3i9VOzzwMhRlGHjV4WJGPN4Kfu9tC_L2-dIqTcbIyVvc9lKl5MDxgARSzt9Vgybm7mWMUOn3PpBdo6A2rY-1NWTeNSwP-e_EjnBCXdsjNxlTRZfnAn9npR2S-Wr-XRZEYuMe5ofbZY/s1600-h/IMG_1907.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 138px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcs3i9VOzzwMhRlGHjV4WJGPN4Kfu9tC_L2-dIqTcbIyVvc9lKl5MDxgARSzt9Vgybm7mWMUOn3PpBdo6A2rY-1NWTeNSwP-e_EjnBCXdsjNxlTRZfnAn9npR2S-Wr-XRZEYuMe5ofbZY/s200/IMG_1907.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345000908927201746" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMqdyj_MdWhyphenhyphene1oxKOM3IxMP0UZLU46ythyMjK1Zvk19FKDYGj0AWG6LzlQr9eFLVViCjNAVZsMIGFSJJerYoQjUkJVvDZsrYwnGRRPMwLayZrG2NEnhdOIuzOXBpJBzaICP-mMi86Mo/s1600-h/IMG_3976.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMqdyj_MdWhyphenhyphene1oxKOM3IxMP0UZLU46ythyMjK1Zvk19FKDYGj0AWG6LzlQr9eFLVViCjNAVZsMIGFSJJerYoQjUkJVvDZsrYwnGRRPMwLayZrG2NEnhdOIuzOXBpJBzaICP-mMi86Mo/s200/IMG_3976.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345000364750302578" border="0" /></a><br />Does Nouvelle Vague help me to understand this world?<br />I just think it's summer again<br />but now I have two objects of love<br />I'm trying to be faithful...<br />I'm trying.<br /><br />Heaven...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Blue sky<br />Sweet dreams<br />Green grass<br /><br />Here we go again<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Freedom</span><br /></div>nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-90781984617300461472009-06-03T08:29:00.000-07:002009-06-03T08:44:01.781-07:00je m'ennuie de la ville de mai<div style="text-align: left;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIqZTyFLSloCI86dT14X8r13CkGlmUpPSbT6gUnqdvW-gw8rkIjxFSaalwMCIdOQObCIbONqJoLSG-WV8GFs8ds6_w-m8Eu33g5cww2mB3vtIfC_SJ4y6U2L2yIgYI37q7J0ayDr2Axk/s1600-h/IMG_3935.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIqZTyFLSloCI86dT14X8r13CkGlmUpPSbT6gUnqdvW-gw8rkIjxFSaalwMCIdOQObCIbONqJoLSG-WV8GFs8ds6_w-m8Eu33g5cww2mB3vtIfC_SJ4y6U2L2yIgYI37q7J0ayDr2Axk/s200/IMG_3935.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343124906074794034" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Cette ville</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Aux longs cris,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Qui profile</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Son front gris,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Des toits frêles,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Cent tourelles,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Clochers grêles,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">C’est Paris !</span><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb1KPdgQuEdaQeCLs2aCtIquWdva0XgwA_SP-rWM5Bi5tR0Q78ZZ9l0Awcqt0kZIGYT4RvdNhmtuDqgL6jc9bpqAFjoxt0Ys5QH2ZPH_rzk1n0v0Pa_icBKMnO15soY6UsBacg75KIA08/s1600-h/IMG_3909.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb1KPdgQuEdaQeCLs2aCtIquWdva0XgwA_SP-rWM5Bi5tR0Q78ZZ9l0Awcqt0kZIGYT4RvdNhmtuDqgL6jc9bpqAFjoxt0Ys5QH2ZPH_rzk1n0v0Pa_icBKMnO15soY6UsBacg75KIA08/s200/IMG_3909.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343125405545779458" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Notre-Dame !</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Que c’est beau !</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sur mon âme</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">De corbeau,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Voudrais être</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Clerc ou prêtre</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Pour y mettre</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Mon tombeau !</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcdUEeZimEKC7O2TJPb9IRi31DWEx7867c3mVyR9tIfbaYzBNxZsrGwcZY9g01_Z14PCR8bvLVzqIQdLDggU-m6rulYa9RRIUIiEjRgqUXkJxJomcXNyL_dsQNyM42RVGCAiP_1bBhGYg/s1600-h/IMG_4085.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcdUEeZimEKC7O2TJPb9IRi31DWEx7867c3mVyR9tIfbaYzBNxZsrGwcZY9g01_Z14PCR8bvLVzqIQdLDggU-m6rulYa9RRIUIiEjRgqUXkJxJomcXNyL_dsQNyM42RVGCAiP_1bBhGYg/s200/IMG_4085.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343126250043294226" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Le vieux Louvre ! –</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Large et lourd,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Il ne s’ouvre</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Qu’au grand jour,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Emprisonne</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">La couronne,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Et bourdonne</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Dans sa tour.</span><br /><br />V. Hugo<br /><br /></div>nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7815178695976104828.post-82206387545600196012009-05-13T13:15:00.000-07:002009-05-13T13:28:58.772-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFWTUAuN70Sw5L-M2HlgUyDW-kyygnXPkSwsCtXTKQgMpOPORnVPVIMOADhrpqykfkLS5QMUStvBygpZGInh3G81w00KPr-QBspxkyvk4snUMNw0FxRYznNGk77P0xoqC2fFqQxZjJT4/s1600-h/IMG_3647.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFWTUAuN70Sw5L-M2HlgUyDW-kyygnXPkSwsCtXTKQgMpOPORnVPVIMOADhrpqykfkLS5QMUStvBygpZGInh3G81w00KPr-QBspxkyvk4snUMNw0FxRYznNGk77P0xoqC2fFqQxZjJT4/s200/IMG_3647.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335405549123105538" border="0" /></a>How happy I am to see you. The spring has come.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4CedCxhoq73UdVdIFk3Pr1vCKpu0lBdwfuuqDzdapNJubtFAPovQ8Ecg__G8f6EEq0reVQPHUBkke0XRTNTLRUTOa0QcQeKUoPMSlocwT2MYPiqxgv_asfQBi0EuONQN7W0eBFTabTSo/s1600-h/IMG_3614.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4CedCxhoq73UdVdIFk3Pr1vCKpu0lBdwfuuqDzdapNJubtFAPovQ8Ecg__G8f6EEq0reVQPHUBkke0XRTNTLRUTOa0QcQeKUoPMSlocwT2MYPiqxgv_asfQBi0EuONQN7W0eBFTabTSo/s200/IMG_3614.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335405179414567810" border="0" /></a>Here.<br />Pure and romantic.<br />Oh.<br />Just a singing girl.<br />She turns and leaves for nothingness.<br />She goes to nothingness.<br /><br />Never come back? But what do I have in this cold and worshipped city?<br /><br />I just promise that this summer will be unusual. And imprudent.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Oh, give me the words...</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">...that tell me nothing.</span><br /></div>nofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14624032867591201418noreply@blogger.com2