What a resting day of grey empty streets and noisy crowds into markets. Mom tumbles about money. Its are never enough. But I think about different things. Morning it was programm about Lermontov – poet of timelessness. Sadly. There no joy in russian literature I have found.
Published by violetv94
Hi, everyone. I'm an artist who currently studies film production design at Moscow. My basic interests are cinema, theatre, drama, literature and all visual arts like architecture, photography or painting. Here I write about my impressions on films, theatre and books and also I share my own works of painting and photography. To my opinion, it's magic how art concerns to the real social life and how this life constructs the new art and the new attitude to life. View all posts by violetv94