You are not left for a long time to look at the feast on the red carpet, names on glasses and on food, I will drink sausage and remember that I was not there.

. And it couldn’t be, only reading in the voice of a woman’s trembling can happen and weighs like the remains of a panel’s eye, what was once and remains of all the past ..

A dog with a scarlet thread walks past you, looks with empty eyes, catches bare wires in the air and walks timidly, as if in a dream that could not happen ... You are the One who was, became, appeared as a catfish in a dream and there is a man with a mask of death on his face with the gaps of the imaginary core, and white painted eyelashes, not his but someone, that which can be and thinks of itself as a great implicit and hidden.

There dead felled flowers that have become fruits folded into round long sheets and then transparent cloaks and masks, four with long eyelashes hanging on branches, in the bright sun, where not a single witch cooks her soup, for the mask looks at her, sees her and probably enters the mind...

You who came, shake off your legs, make sure that you do not feel anything, but turn into two thin pupils of a wise snake, with white narrow highlights ...

-"Look and don't think..maybe..."

- "Don't whisper to me, otherwise I'll turn around and fly away .. otherwise"

The red canvas is folded, there are flowers, there is a lot of what was there.

Red and black, and like nails sticking out "from" and "in", beacons of designation ...

- "I will water you and you will grow as an artist..."

Grow, grow, grow... Everything around is growing...

And there the snakes escaped from the fire, grew up and went into the ground, their tails sticking out like heads ...

Huge flowers grew on the river ...

And in the cage, a red fish, big as a man with white eyes and scarlet stains on the mask, pretended to be a man and predicts from a book, sits by the huge nostril of the earth, otherwise it inhales and exhales, smells the fish and probably rejoices in its red carp ... And it attracts she is all ... And there the feathers were left from people who flew away to heaven and will not come again, fingers stick out of the ground, blue and implicit, a snowman passed and left, he has darkness of fingers ... - "You don't accidentally need one ?!", and he leans over and breathes warm breath into you.

I am sailing on a boat, the girl under the bridge is singing, and inside the darkness the film is being played. And the black wanderer sits, a small doll on a silver throne, with an empty nest, dropped by a hand without joints.

"... breathe over me with the breath of the old ... Take me somewhere ...", - the girl sings in the distance.

A girl in white walks and dies in the middle of the square.

And three eggs on a scarlet background, on a tablecloth of a lost tomorrow, and a huge fish have not yet been butchered, but they are already cooking soup, soup and fish and everything ...

And at the entrance stands a red horse and sings, waiting for me and shaking its wings... With thin needles on red steel plates, the river of memory is reflected, twisted and different, the one that does not exist... Moira with bells offer you oblivion in wine, salt and yellow , join and go to the world of dreams... Forever asleep in the grass, where a lone fisherman refused to participate in the only feast..

And I mount my horse and leave by morning, by the old dawn...

Where red is just the color of a blooming stamen on a cold porcelain vase.