(Source: evgenegve)
Brooklyn girl (by Nika A)
My BENETTON bag (by Nika A)
Everything in this world is so logically determined. No, really, look: if you find 1378 reasons not to study for your math test – u are going to fail this test, if you come up with 1645 reasons to eat this chocolate bar and then that cake – u are not going to lose 4 pounds, if you discover 195959958 excuses for him – he is not going to change his behavior ever. Knowing the premises leads you to knowing the conclusion most of the time; but yet this don’t means that you are going to follow this “right” route that will take to the “happy” end; you would rather tell -“No! This is not for me. I don’t seek easy ways. Through The Thorns to the Stars “. And then you are going to fall short on your test, add couple of centimeters to your hips and you definitely are going to stay indulgent and lenient towards his tricks.My life is nor logical nor rational, but at list it is consistent in its abnormality.
Key to my heart (by Nika A)
I told you. I like to smile. I like to imagine my self in the movie. Especially when music is playing in the subway, somewhere in the background; and while you close your eyes the sound of coming train is intermixing with this fast pulsating and throbbing melody, penetrating into your throat, deep inside until it comes into resonance with your heartbeat…Different faces, lives, eyes… All of a sudden, music is filling all space becoming the air I breath; it is this special moment in my picture, when everything is slowing down, while adding something mysteriously-chef-d’oeuvre-like to the story. Train into darkness. Tunnel. You are near me – seating, standing, talking, contemplating, gesticulating – playing your unique part. I walk trough you; I pass by – towards the new alluring sound of jazz. I walk curiously fast, towards inviting tone; but I am always late in this city, I cant stop, I cant stay, cant enjoy – I am running towards new tunnel, while music like swarm of bees is following me… and I am smiling as I am playing my insidiously naïve part.
For her every evening has its own particular flavor. Those which are gray and cold taste sour, rainy and lonely evenings usually leave her with bitter aftertaste; but sometimes come these special ones – green and warm, filled with delicious flavor. At that time it seems to her that this evening is never going to end; and after enjoying sweet caramel taste of this magical dusk time, she licks sugar crystals from her lips.
Sometimes during these evenings she is seeing him; him, who is nor her hero neither he is her knight. Him - who is simultaneously indifferently- distant and naively- close. And they laugh and look each other into the eyes. She listens to the stories about somebody’s love and bitter passion that comes from his lips. They walk through the fluorescent and loud streets. She loves to look at him, loves his ringing as thunder frank laughter. But the thing she loves the most - it’s his total indifference towards her. During these evenings she closes her eyes and forgets that somewhere very far away somebody who truly cares and loves is waiting for her. She runs and hides from this thoughts while sounds of jazz get her intoxicated intermixing with flavor of red wine and tenderness of his touch.
Me, Myself and I (by Nika A)
