Читать книгу She miss you - Lerysol - Страница 2

Autumn is quiet, pampered. Early morning. Anticipation. Deceptive. The past are unaccustomed. Absolutely different perception. Occasionally a predator is eager to take what previously belonged, after 5, 7, 9 switching to childish harmlessness vulnerable. Fear with cold. Chains, a whip stopped the hanging one. Beats in rage from the restrictions of other weak. Sunny. Windless. Smells of rain in autumn. Sleepy, condensed, stretchy. A star among the snow-white linen. Plans for movement. birds, smells, movements in the given. Slowly, with a little aggression, but with fresh air. The day off is started. French ones tickle with melodies. The text of the servants, gossip, suggesting that their solitude among the tables is not disheveled.

Silence. Streams of cold, hungry, bite in, awakening, cutting Morpheus’ webs. There are similar, similar, having a quiet breakfast. By themselves, fascinating, slightly sloppy, gentle smiles from observations, discharges run along the wires, nourishing. Not of this world, or something, having pecked, they fell.

And at the next table they write. Gluing letter to letter. Fingers knock out a tap dance, click. The patterns of the big one on the screen are woven intricately lace, with hints of gray. Remembering that no one ever sincerely loves little men with a feather, by analogy with tassels, they will not shake hands until they themselves rise from the breath of fresh. Funny. Allow themselves criticism, rude with disdain. Until millions of other spoiled people bend the knee, With applause. Those past ones, as previously described more than once by others, will change, releasing thousands of words about their immense devotion, rattling hollow. Suddenly remembering the connections. Walking your character vulnerable. So early, so early, everyone sleeps, shuddering. French silence reigns in the café in autumn. He indulges. Waves of thoughts, one after another, rolled in, splashing. Espresso is a legal drug that bites into the blood vessels, sharpening perception, smiling brighter, immersing one’s own vessels in a state of rest, letting windy content pass by, absorbing the energy of a comfortable night, letting go for a while of care.

“I slammed it shut. What’s wrong with you? A little calmer? Or does it seem so? Does the storm subside a little or does it seem again? Waves of words roll in. Write if it’s cold. And I fly further, maybe my past life affects me – as a migratory bird. A little bit of emotions, upsets, guilt. Playing with the past in messengers. Tickets are bought. Alone again, well, with you through thousands. Silence, I begin to love its shades. Do not strain the superfluous with their complexes. Gradually looking, plunging deeper behind the scenes, into others who smell of strength, analyzing more and more, I find hundreds of similarities in their habits, childhood fears, being in a state of resentment, immuring themselves in closets. They smelled of grayness with suspicion, the chaotic nature of reckless thoughts, subject exclusively to their own logic. Interpreting what is happening, they use only gray-black ones. I’m a little tired of dancing in someone else’s dance. I want your tenderness. Snuggle deep, deep into the embrace, in appearance, but not strong at all. Kissing, longing, with hungry lips, the bristles of the weekend of permissiveness.”