Live - hurt. This can attest anyone who tried to be alive

Live - hurt. This can attest anyone who tried to be alive.


Poets Of The Fall
- 11 - Poets of the Fall - Where Do We Draw The Line

In autumn you need to walk slowly, greedily inhaling moisture and light, with grass to pick up later apples, nibble, wiping sleeve, long to sit on the veranda cafe or simply on the boulevards, throwing a wet rag bag bench, which went beyond the bread hour, day, eternity ago. Autumn need to buy more new things for the winter, and even in the spring, even though the fall fuss with clothes seem silly, every day in the autumn of the latter, or even "how" - that's why.


In the autumn ...
The world is becoming so piercingly beautiful, gulok, and full of a call that our appearance and even the fact of our presence here finally loses value for all, except, perhaps, ourselves, and the question remains open.



Yes, just the time of year so special. Bridge between summer and winter, which means that between life and death. From all these autumn rains, chrysanthemums and wet chestnuts, smells fresh, bitter-sweet, unconscious ringing in the ears, almost unbearable heartache, forced to grow, to expand, to accommodate all pre-winter splendor of the world.


It is clear that not all the same will grow. Not together. But we must try. Actually, not "necessary" even because it - self. At least for me fall so acting. On the eve of winter, every time I seemed to jump off the cliff. Long jump, funny and bitter, you never know who will open the eyes there, at the bottom of the spring.


This kind of loneliness familiar to many. When a person is surrounded by family and friends, but to talk about that sometimes sees the cloth being turned inside out, seamy like flies past a thick foreign elapsed time, as the reality of crack like broken glass and pouring from cracks invisible to the eye, but physically feel light - not with anyone. And all the rest has no meaning, no matter how carefully we pretended as if only it is.


Autumn presents to the person a generous gift - the science of dying, we all know about it, only a few people recognized themselves, which learns every autumn, while gold all the heavens poured out at our feet, and just touching the ground turns into a dry foliage.


Buy new clothes, simply for balance, keep on reminding myself that the future is not, at least theoretically possible to invent ridiculous guarantee to take hostages - white sweater specifically for January, scarlet scarf become worn in February, when we get tired of all the other warm, and the best shoes in the world emerald color, with thin soles can be put on only in April, not before, and how you have to be an idiot to not now survive until spring.

Winds, angels and men
Max Fry













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