Autumn morning
Old man hands picking apples
A woman hangs out laundry in the sun
I feel the wind touching the leaves
The bird flies across the field
Memories are born in a person
The story of a long road

In childhood we want
something we grow up faster
but when we are grown up
we again long for childhood.

Your heart is your best compass.

There is nothing easier
than to complicate everything!

It may take only a few seconds
to hurt someone that you love
but it may take a lot of years
to heal this pain.

I will caress you the same way
how to caress me
amniotic fluid sea

If Love is a disease
then I'm very sick
but incredibly happy....

With rusty nail
I scratch in your hand
Love words.
Tonight our love
Birth through your scars.

Difficult is the first meeting
When nothing to say
And the last
When everything is said

Men with difficulty forgive and forget quickly.
Women easily forgive, but never forget.

This jar is different – each shard and crack tells the story of me.
I slowly piece myself together
Carefully choosing each fragment
Each break
That highlights what I have experienced and endured
Each fragile piece reminds me
That the greatest beauty is not in the unbroken
But in the mended
This is my new jar
My restored essence
In which light flows and reflects all
That I have become.

You are like rain
So unpredictable
So refreshing
So sometimes ruthless
So gentle
So renascent
You come and go
And come back again
And leave me invisible traces

Sorrow stifles me
Like a song that doesn’t resonate in my heart.

Like a dream that remains unfulfilled,
Like the sun that does not warm me.

I run into the melody.

the crimson sounds hug me.

i ever struck a still place.

it was a singing rose.

When the time comes to tire,
I swallow the sun
in a single gulp,
while birch sap
slowly sings within me –
a song of light,
a song of night.

Stop daydreaming.
We are in real life, not some fairy tale where people are good and all that stupid things.
No, we are in real life,
where people are hurt.

Colour is dangerous;
you fall into it.

And colour can swallow you,
and like music it is super emotional.

It is hard to stay distant.

Loneliness smells like plums
From grandmother's garden

I lost my shadow
In the city’s reflection

My past became a willow
That grew up to the moon

It’s not that
I don’t care
I’ve just learned
the value of my care

I long to be silent in silence,
so that a magnolia tree may bloom in my mind,
warmed by the hands of God.