Phantom pains … They don’t let go. Almost a year has passed, but sometimes tearful melancholy come back. Everything is clear, and the stupid feeling that lyric poets love to sing has already died out and amputated.
… And everything was strange, and unpromising, and a hundred thousand of all kinds of “not” and “without” … But it hurts. Stupidly, in the background … The counter of lonely particles charged with crazy memories blinks. And treacherous tears are rolling due to the sad music from the Internet receiver … Everything seemed to go, let go, go. It forgotten, buried and sealed in a lead sarcophagus of sound thoughts and the present «here and now» … But no … The half-life continues, highlighting beautiful moments from the past …
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