Честно говоря, поначалу я сомневался, что на Оак Поинт Авеню вообще кто-то живет. Бетонные фасады угрожающе сверкают проемами выбитых окон, некоторые завешены пленкой или заколочены досками.
To a traveller called Mert Servant doesn’t hurry to suggest one more drink or a snack or some coffee to a few dumb visitors, left in the bar. He stares vacantly in his phone, paying no attention that music has dropped already a while ago. Through the stillness I can clearly hear vague whisperings and … Continue reading The storyteller
Street cafe by Sargy Mann This is the first story of #paintastory series. Source of inspiration for each story is painting or photo. I don't try to recreate painter's idea, I just follow my fantasy. Sargy Mann seemed to me the best choice to start. He painted being blind. And I start my writing experiments not … Continue reading How I met and lost myself. Or Santorini episode
My head's in The clouds, Washed by december rain My feets temple down Insipid Streets of my town
If night had smell It would be musk and incense of his skin. If I could spell Those special notes of darkness I would have called That pleasure tunes my hidden vital sin. If moon would christen Alliance of cool-blooded mind and artist The name is moral Of immoral virtue to unite ones breath, To … Continue reading If night had smell
I got up by the noon with that heavy head I could hardly get myself out of the bed. Through the night I woke up many times because of strange disturbance I have never experienced before. Once I felt like being pushed into my back. Other time I reversed the way my head was on the … Continue reading The dream
There are already few days that it happens while I do my usual evening shower routine. Water smells like sea. I don’t admit anything alike in the morning. But as I soon as I step into the shower booth after the sundown I feel the salty odour. It smells like a windy sunny day on … Continue reading Meet the sea