Somewhere there, far from dreams, in the bustle of endless wanderings, There is no place for silence and everything Real. There Normality gives birth to reality. There are no transcendental heights and endless roads in it. Everything has a term there. Juice is squeezed out of everything. And the name of the juice is life. Within the framework of what is material and tangible. You are, as it were, part of a team and a unit at the same time. And, it seems, there is something to strive for, defeating each other alternately. They called it progress for all who run after happiness. But in fact, this is the stupidest illusion of all born. No one has ever become an immortal body and has not grown wings during life. Sometimes, in outbursts of love and tenderness, We feel the Real - a piece of serenity...
Canvas. Oil. 50x70 July 2024
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Not every meaning finds instant echoes in the storehouse of the soul, but everyone is given the opportunity to touch the string. The only question is who is tearing and who is trying to barely touch ?! Everything has its time and result ...