“The Russian soul is a dark place”.
– F. Dostoevsky
If there is something like that – then would be this my yesterday’s “Literary Déjà vu”:
I could not decide otherwise, and basically that was not a decision that was an inevitable fate. I still felt melancholy and even fear, but in this melancholy and anxiety lived already the feeling of boundless happiness. (…) I sat alone by the fire and sat with a wistful longing for my loneliness, and longing for myself.
…one of these moments when only the disappearance of heaven is comforting equivalent…
…or Russian way: All that (gathered in these last few months) melancholy, drawn in a sea of vodka and brandy…
With my whole INSOMNIA, I’m in love with you…
Life is beautiful.
Not my, of
Earlier this morning in the subway:
I should not always… but what the hell…
…I was… flooded by a sudden wave of howling impulses and wild passions …
My deplorable soul… my dozing hearth… dreams, hopes, fears, etc. All this, I was ready to spread out – on the floor; in front of her sleepy, tired Face.
I’ve always been (that must be said), inclined towards a fatal, foolish and masochistic stubbornness… Despite the countless hours of repentance; careful analyzing of my own I – nothing helped!
While the sleepy
counters of you, I
of the down, in
your gaze reflected
…these and others kitschy nebulous – while I watched her – went through my head…
In fact: the heart is a true hypocrite..!
In the intervals between wakeful dreams and mute screams of life, I thought: how many of us – and how often – was a secret subject of adorations or longing – without knowing anything about. She ( my unknown girl), is perhaps lonely, sad and forgotten – or maybe not… these just meaningless postulates… But the sad fact is: I am my greatest enemy.
But at this moment (as I write this), I wonder: while in the apartment – some of us – carefully cultivate its vegetative solitude, ever thought (for example: in an unscrupulous and surprising attack of loneliness), that somewhere outside; somewhere out there, in this endless sea of quiet and vulnerable shadows (with wich we encounter daily), – is someone who thinks about you?