POINT OF LIGHT I was a nine–ten-year-old child. I was ill – another bout of tonsillitis. My body lay in the bed like an abandoned shore after a storm – hot, motionless, with a breath that hesitated whether to return from somewhere. My vision was blurred. I was reading Tom
THE TRUTH ABOUT HEAVY RAIN Have you ever seen how rain falls? Now, exactly now, it does not fall straight down – it flows at an angle, like our thoughts, like our destinies, like time, which is never even. The drops strike the windows and slide along the glass like
I DREAMED OF LOVE Dedicated to Rumi – Persian poet and mystic (1207–1273), whose verses on love and the soul continue to touch the contemporary reader beyond time and borders. Morning unfolds like a thin, silk veil of mist over the quiet river. The water is still, but it does
LOVE WHISPER Whisper entered through the window and spread across the room without asking. It was warm, like a sunset that never ends, and like a flower growing under your hands, yet without touching it. At least, that’s how it seemed to me – the air, perhaps, was quietly doing
A NEST WITHOUT FAITHFUL PAWS I watch from my balcony – a bird slowly descends toward its nest, like a thought that has finally decided where it belongs. The air takes it and lets it go, without asking why exactly there. There is no hesitation in its wings, no doubt
STREET SCULPTOR The street appeared first, because a person always begins from the outside when they still do not know how to enter themselves. Narrow, half-dark, it was the direction of uncertainty – a place for walking, not for stopping. Along it, breath lingers like a voiceless question, and the
WINTER BLACK ИNК The year leaves on tiptoe, like snow that is afraid to creak. It slides slowly, almost transparently, like an unspoken thought. I see it off with a smile – light, tilted, like a moon above the rooftops, like a word I know by heart but deliberately leave
MOTHER’S CHRISTMAS The holiday comes like a promise that time whispers with a smile, as if it knows something I have not yet understood. I await it as though the days dissolve into light and the hours grow soft and quiet. I imagine it as a slow river in which
EURO FOR A TOAST AND A LONG LIFE Entering the new currency is like a quiet crossing of a border between two worlds – invisible yet tangible, like the layers of an old book whose pages preserve the dust of time. I am still on this side
