удивительное чувство. восхитительное ощущение. вопрос, как и истина, остаётся вечным. почему же, каждый раз влюбляясь заново, мы погружаемся в это первозданное неизведанное так рьяно, так страстно. и наслаждаемся моментом, и опытом, осевшим и засеявшим и заселившемся во все внутренние органы, как с пыльцой бабочек бывало. зная, что как в первый раз уже никогда не будет. продолжаем. я восхищаюсь таким мирозданием и благодарю вселенную. не забывайте удивляться
“It is known that relationship, which starts with a lie ends with it.
When You start to trust a liar,
Long road to undiscovered land of the emotional pain, void and endless waiting hours begins.”
Dear Love,
I was always wondering - what is it more important for you to open in me - mind or heart?
I want you to know both, so I will never worry that was untrue to you. And there's a feeling comes...
Your attention flatters me, because you're wise, and gentle, and so handsome. I adore the time we are spending, I appreciate the opportunities you give me - to be with and to learn from you, and that working experience and knowledge you share, I admire that you show me places en mundo that I probably would never visit without you generously having me, I am truly enjoy and thankful for that.
All the care you give at this time of my life, all these short escapes with You always were healing for my heart somehow and to go through things.
You give me both - warm words and undeniable actions. I find it precious. And I do know that it all comes from Your kind heart. And mine reciprocates with feeling that goes far beyond friendship. I can't help the feeling to extend.
And obviously we have fantastic sex and it is only getting more intimate, and exciting, and I am trying to give you the same thrills I experience with You.
Certain perception of things is enough for me to open up my heart and soul to you, and to being loyal, and to take formed part of your life silently, and my pleasure to do best for you to find the calmness and escape maybe from time to time, anytime you wish.
I am never to interfere with (this is the smallest thing I can give to you), and absolutely fine doing it, I am never to hurt You or put You in risk. I hope you know it.
Anyway, Thank You so much! I would do anything you could ask me to show mine deepest gratefulness and affection and friendship. I feel like a princess with you, and this is your victory over my heart. It brings so much magic and beauty. And I adore these memories you create.
But I feel need to share with You my state of mind I get day by day we are getting closer...And it struggles.
I feel like losing sense of reality the more You spoil me, (Maybe Tezcatlipoca in You are teasing me). You say it's complicated and takes time - it does. And the better you treat me - the faster it is running out.
I am scared. You ask to open heart. It mixed with feeling for you and the inner ones of mine, and last even are not defined yet.
And opening for me is sharing all these down-earth thoughts in mind I am embarrassed with and so I'm wandering.
My family in a horrible situation, I myself 25, and still live with mother, I want to support her, but she drives me crazy once in a while with her depression. Although, which is understandable.
Father died with a debt of 40 mlllion rubles, was wanted by the tribunal by banks which even took the heritage of mine(I can't get through this feeling) and some property more, so he officially even had no home. All cars were sold and - here I am mad even more! - they gave about 1,5 million rubles to people as a credit, and as long everyone saw my father was drinking too hard, of course, after his death they cheated - as we see now - and disappear with willing not giving it back to my mother...
I have nothing now literally and as I was not deprived with comfort until quite conscious, the situation I have terrifies me. I have to think how to ensure my mom soon, because my brother is beginning his studies. I am lost. I told you that, of course, for long I thought I'd be on a way to building my own family by this age, but now I do not even feel that man is a thing, but child is enough. Seems to be easier and I am almost hate myself for these deviants in mind. On the other hand, I see for that several heavy arguments.
And FIY... I don't judge you, but either I don’t want to be blinded with any illusion the dreams are made of and feelings may cause. And this is not about trust between you and me,
But that complex of milestones changes are reflecting in such a way, that no matter how much I would like to be with You, and care for You, there are things I have to focus on. You offered your help, but am I dare to accept it? I know you understand it all.
And me too!
I mean, it's silly to ignore that we both know what is it we have in terms of relationships’ definitions, and I don't regret this my choice to accept it from the start with clear perception of options our first date could cause. And I am blessed with it to appear such meaningful and genuine and heartfelt...
But when you ask me now some things I could want for birthday or some other things you say... I find it hard to answer. Because these beautiful dresses and things you kindly gift neither won't feed me nor will help me to earn on just living.
Please, don't think that I am not excited, and pleased with your eye looking on me with sincere thing I find in it. It makes me happy and feeling of being needed, and unsatisfied desire of that minute you keep it on me being endless...
I am not sure if I should have shared with, even when you asked.
It erupts suddenly in me, but I am not sad. I know that there is any kind of love… and one is from me to You.
Мэри давит таблетки и делает порошок, Размеренно думает: первое — эти люди, Все прочие, в общем — все у них хорошо; Сосед повесился, правда, но все там будем… А так, их проблемы и выеденного яйца Не стоят: подумаешь, грипп там или желтуха, Или с утра не могут узнать лица В зеркале собственного. Смотрят себе порнуху, Кофе пьют, носятся целый день по кругу… К вечеру не отличить живого от мертвеца. Какие заботы бывают у мертвецов?..
Мэри тем временем жадно в себя вдыхает Свое утешенье, свой праздник; думает: лет пятьсот Все проживут еще точно, а я не знаю – И это второе, о чем хотелось бы мне сказать – Сумею ли я додышать до полудня завтра. У Мэри зрачки, как пуговицы, в глазах, Мэри давно на каком-то режиме авто- Пилота; не помнит точно, где ее тормоза, И почему ей нужно остановиться.
Третье — она думает, уронив на стол Голову — все остальные находят принца; В моем же случае проще бы застрелиться Спрыгнуть с балкона, повеситься, отравиться Газа вдохнуть, постояв чуть-чуть над плитой…
Oh. Let the August be the month of swallows and the roofs, And driven by the habit from the yore. On airport hills (in Pulkovo) it scatters blossoms of the reeds, And opens every shutter with a thunder.
Will come the time for all my scents to vanish, like Atlanta fell. And neither years passed by, nor distance from an eye to thords, or mounds, or folias do matter For the feel we scare up. (We probably had worked in gloves to stash it)
All sleuths were chasing after it will find no fingerprints, Unfortunately, feeling does not leave mark.
So what I think - when comes to heart, which keeps these discrete links to nothing - Forgiveness is apology and excuse ((Especially) in context of the end of summer)
But once a year exactly you will be warmed up with birch tree, not Calluma, And North side be familiar to you - When me appears as though in mind - You'll catch a raging wind beyond the window, bidding a farewell to that summer.
оригинал. 1964Пусть август -- месяц ласточек и крыш, подверженный привычке стародавней, разбрасывает в Пулкове камыш и грохает распахнутою ставней.
Придет пора, и все мои следы исчезнут, как развалины Атланты. И сколько ни взрослей и ни гляди на толпы, на холмы, на фолианты,
но чувства наши прячутся не там (как будто мы работали в перчатках), и сыщикам, бегущим по пятам, они не оставляют отпечатков,
Поэтому для сердца твоего, собравшего разрозненные звенья, по-моему, на свете ничего не будет извинительней забвенья.
Но раз в году ты вспомнишь обо мне, березой, а не вереском согрета, на Севере родном, когда в окне бушует ветер на исходе лета.
умение терпеть какие то глобальный смыслы и ждать врождает частенькое недовольство, которое я выплевываю злобно и раздражительно в окружающий мир, во всех вокруг это неправильно а потом просто оказывается, что человек мечтал и бла бла увольте, не надо мне такого во всех смыслах и это неправильно
когда я уже научусь слушать своё тело и свой организм
Мне страшно, что я останусь здесь насовсем, и, соблюдая вежливость королей, какой-нибудь Бродский в шлепанцах, как сосед, будет стучаться занять пятьдесят рублей, и солнце, больше похожее на луну, на крутое яйцо — будет скрываться от тех, кто не ушел, кто так и остался в плену города улиц, каналов, фонарей и аптек...