About what we don’t speak about

This is the time to think about money and society.

I watched the last Woody Allen’s film where the old aunt in a scene was sitting by the table and saying something like “It’s the violent world and not everyone was born with everything for life. Somebody has to struggle.” Her nephew nodded, but curtainly it was no mere a mockery. And instead of so warm feeling about those curved chairs and crystal glasses I can see an abyss between the world of Azure coasts and the Volga river. I presume that I’m not so nauve person who clearly believe in absolute freedom of anybodies. We are free of course (before the deal has gone to car\flat\medicine’s purchase).

The discrepancy of mine includes into my notion of life I should have and the real life I have. I like curved chairs as my owns and crystal glasses like its are from my snack-bar. But it isn’t.

I’ve lost my smartphone and if it wouldn’t be found there is a new problem.

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There is no buzz in the air but only a blueness of sky. It is very easy to be happier under this sun. I am actually.
Stretching or running hours in the college were so joyful when I was painting our bright stage with the fat woman. Without any notion of mine why girls were slack and tired I smiled on the picture of them sitting in a round in usual way.
Life is contained with days. Days by days. And I have no time to wait for a golden age in my life or in this place with common political situation. This is the spring of my soul too.

Spring is started

And finally it has begun. Spring has begun in every smallest unit of life.
During the morning I did illustrations for computer design and could behold sun out of my room. Streets were filled with light and frivolity.  The lungs could breath freely as mind could get clear.
Inspirited with these sights I entered the college and tryed to infix my impressions into common talk.
But there were again chiars and stools with teapot, sweets and cups. Talks again. No, thanks. I can’t just seat and drink tea watching videos until nothing is ready.
Our ex tutor went to see us. She is totally pregnant and doesn’t work now. Girls imagined some kind of metting on the next vocation. I felt and still feel that can’t be there among womanish talks. This is not for me.
Evening was as pretty as day was. People were going home in such a number that it seemed to me a big city life.