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In my dream I saw that everything was good enough.

But all the people are just characters. Episodic.

I don't like this thought, it's very sad.

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.

Please stop.

Please try to become adult and serious.

And you will never be aware of whether you make another one happier or not.

Whether you bother another one or not.

But then what can you do at all??? Just to observe?

You're so helpless.

So sad.

Everything is good enough.
It's the time of the season for loving, yeah.

Des bêtises, toujours des bêtises.

I don't know whether there's at least one thing available to make me cleverer.

No.

Seems like I have spoiled everything this time. It's possible.

But I'm soooo tired of trying to do anything - just anything - for myself and by myself. Only.

In vain.

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.

If I hadn't my family and my friends... I don't even want to imagine what I would have felt.

But ok, my only desire at the moment is to leave traces in the lives of others. Just small and almost imperceptible.

For nothing else matters.

Thank you 2009.

Альбом: I'll Follow The Sun

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 mine.
I'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.
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?
Oh.
Do. Not. Check. Your. Mailbox.
Do. Not. Think. About. The. Future.
You have nothing. Nothing at all.
Not in my line... Not in my line?!

Completely confused.

The winter has come. Don't ask the calendar, don't look in your window, it doesn't matter, 'cause it has come indeed.
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.

So much happiness for one day. Everything is so healingly simple.
I remember.

The banks of the Daugava - how happy I was when it met me in the night, beautiful, strong, calm, shining.
I'm so happy to look in the eyes, to smile and to be simple.
Just simpler.

recursion?

Yandex has just proposed me to search for "бархатный сезон". He doesn't know probably that nothing can be more "velvet" and warm.
All this sadness is caused by the fact of impotence in front of The Past.
It's just in the past.
And I'm here.
Sooo saaaad.