Walking in the park

Walking in a park with my girlfriend, we sat down on a branch. People were passing by us and speaking about different problems and other things. Some of them were speaking about football about last soccer game of our combined team. They discussed the play. And the other-about music, problem in school and work and other things.

It smelled of syrupy, mawkish candy floss and very tasty vanilla and chocolate cocktail. In the park played relax and pacification romantic music, the chant of birds was so amazing and sweetened. The flock of birds were flying to the south. They usually have about a one degree acceptance angle, meaning once they're more than about a degree off, none of the sunlight rays will hit the focus. It was sunny and windy. 

By the side of attractions was heard funny and happy laugh of children also there were a lot of young couples, they were enjoying this charming and incredibly atmosphere and holding hands. The leaves on the trees were growing yellow and play in the sun and falling down. By the side of the forest it smelled of freshness and incipient autumn.  

All around us seemed fantastic. It seemed  Fairyland.  

Somewhere in Tula [Visual Writing]

I sit on a bench somewhere in Tula. I don’t even know the name of this street.

The air is fresh and weak wind blows here. Lonely tree that stands far away sways in this wind.  Birds sing with their melodious voices. This melody is like a nearly forgotten song of childhood. It reminds me of the past. The sky is covered with dark clouds and it is about to start raining. There’s a big crowd of people here.

A young man wearing a black office suit passes me by. He holds a case in right hand. I look at his back for some seconds and then he disappears in the crowd.

The streams of people flow in this street. Two women go slowly through the crowd. The first one is blonde. She wears dark jacket, jeans and carries little package. The second woman has long blue hair. She wears white hoody and black jeans. They speak about electronic music of twentieth century.

There’s little traffic jam on the carriageway caused by the driver of extremely old «Niva». From here I can hear inpatient beeps of other cars.

An old man leaning on a cane slowly comes to another bench and sits down on it. Silently he watches people like I do. I feel calm watching all these people.

A guy on bicycle tries to make a knock but fails off the bicycle. No injuries, nothing serious. He grabs the bicycle and continues riding.

Finally it starts raining. Cold drops fall on asphalt. Some people without umbrellas go to the nearest shops or cafes to take a shelter. One woman uses her handbag as umbrella. Another one uses her boyfriend’s jacket to hide her hair from rain.

Place to return in

Do you have such a place that always inspires you any time you need it? Some place you feel comfortable in every time you've just come. Some place where you can stay alone for a while with your own thoughts without any irritations.

She knows such place. For her it is the cosy coffee house situated in the noisy center of the city but away from endless rush and curious views. There is always absolutely conciliating atmosphere.   

This house is very quite inside instead of always-in-hurry streets. You can just look around and see that everything here has its own story to tell. Including the strong smell of just made Americano from Brazil. This bracing smell of coffee helps to feel cheerfulness in the morning and break through the day. 

Sitting there and listening measured knocking of coffee machine she likes to make out small but well-designed lodging with colorful pieces of the modern art on the walls or incoming people who also want to have a little rest there, just like her. Here, drinking gorgeous coffee, she can also meet someone interesting to talk with despite of age, gender or appearence. No one cares about the way you look, but the way you think. Talking about abstract things you start to notice how wonderful one moment can be, and how we lose it spending our time on things we don't actually need. 

Here is some place she wants to return in.

Visual writing

       So, I decided to go for a walk. And now I'm here on the bench not far away from my home. But for these street lamps, I would not see anything at all. It's only 8 p.m. but it has got so dark. What is more, there are so much dark clouds in the sky. Everything is painted gray and this colour is surrounding me. I feel like I'm in one of those black-and-white films, which were so popular earlier. But it's more like a sad film than a comedy and there's no funny music background. No signs of beauty, no signs of life. I just don't like such weather. It's dissapointing me.
       There are no beatiful landscapes around me or something like that. Just some trees and a big playground which is full of children and their parents. I see that these children are so happy, although the weather isn't so good. They are just running back and forth and laughing so loudly. And these sounds of happiness make me even smile. But I can't say the same about adults. They look gloomy and so depressed and you can't  distinguish them from each other.Maybe they have such look because of their work or study.  I think that is the reason of their so-called "depression".  But then blows a strong guspy wind which is carrying cold air and scent of rain. It's deafening, so I can't anything at all now. It seems that this wind don't want to see anyone's happiness. It's like a crowd of furious people trying to push you back making you keep silence and you can't do anything with it. All you can do is just wait. That's all.
       After a few seconds the wind dies and I take a look at these trees, which are dancing in crazy rhythm not far away from me. They look so alive but at the same time they look like they're fading away. They're dancing like today is the last day of their life and they want to make this day the most important one. What is more, I can hear some kind of music from there. Yeah , I mean music because you can't call it a noise. The music of nature. Some rustles from every tree. They sound like a choir together. It's brilliant and attracts my attention. But I can't enjoy it because the wind returns and spoils everything again.
      Not away from me some children are playing football. It seems that football season will never end and they can do it all day long in any weather. I'm not sure that they want to be football players. But one thing is clear here. They just love sport and can't live even a day without it. I can hear some indinstinct speech from them and from time to time, sounds of football cage. These sounds are like explosions because every time you hear it you shudder. I just can't get used to it
      Now it's getting so much darker and I start to shiver with cold that's why I'm on the way home.

In a cafe [Visual writing]

My body is very heavy. I feel every muscle in it and I'm totally exhausted after a hard day. The atmosphere is very cozy and warm.
I see many people starving for delicious food. They are going back and forth to find a free table. There are glaringly bright walls here.
It's a very noisy place. I hear clicking of spoons, forks and knives. People are chewing and talking. You can hear gurgling water and cry of a baby wafting from afar.
Smell is so nice. A lot of odors mixed. I smell something meaty. And delicate scent of fragrant coffe and backing soar in the air. Hunger is getting stronger.
I take a spoon in my hand. It's smooth and polished. I try a dish. So hot and a little oversalt.
Now I feel fit of energy and satisfaction when my stomach is full. A little laziness. I have no desire to go out, want to stay here and take a rest. But I must go.

In the park

People stride in the park. A man in a business suit looks through some documents on the nearby bench, the rustle of printed pages merges with the quiet sound of leaves under the feet of a girl who passes by. A man behind is smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee. There are delicate fragrance of the drink and the unpleasant smell of cigarettes.

A few minutes ago autumn sun was still shining brightly, but then  the sky turned all shades of red, pink, orange and yellow. It became cooler, the light breeze bringing from the neighboring houses smell of fresh baking. I remember that I have a bar of chocolate, and I rather want to enjoy its taste. Each piece slowly melts in the mouth, leaving a pleasant aftertaste, and for a short time sinks in my own thoughts. But noise of cars traveling on the road near the park distracts me. Drivers hurry somewhere, someone signals, someone yells out of the window, but in a noisy stream of cars all sounds mix into a single roar of the big city. But here, in the park, it is quiet and calm, as if time has stopped, people are leisurely walking  along the alleys or have a dialogue with their friends.

I have to go home, and I am reluctant to leave this quiet place. Passing by the river, I see the ducks swimming slowly along the dark surface of the water along the shore. I want to stop and look at them, but I'm in a hurry. Coming out of the park, I again sink into the bustle of the city, and do not notice the sunset, the wind, the smell of fresh baking. I'm going home.

Visual writing

A September cool evening . I’m under the clouds . The sun goes down and illuminates the wires with its light , coloring them gold . It’s cold outside. The wind blows . I’m wearing warm clothes. The smoke from chimneys  . I'm starting to smell like them. So does she . I feel hungry. So does she .The sounds of my stomach reach out to my friend and she begins to laugh. So do I .The sound of music makes everything better , as usual . Music suits the mood of the horizon. I see rooftops. I see people - ants . Graffiti .In front of me people continue to live their daily routine . A Man is hugging a woman in the kitchen ,probably his wife  .The battery is dead. We listen to the silence. We listen to the sounds of elevator movement every five minutes . We are sitting on the floor and staring at the sky . I'm so tired . So is she . We watched how the day dies and steals the color out of everyting, leaving us only with our silhouettes. Let’s get out of here. 

Out of fuss [visual writing]

You're standing in front of the river watching the water. Everything seems to be peaceful and calm. Slow and quiet river, neglected and even special nature. You want to touch everything, because you remember this place from the childhod. This sweetish fresh air and the cold water, the far high sky and the scratchy grass.
But today you see the things differently. Today you do hear the chirping of grasshoppers and blackbirds' noise. You realize the water to have turned into something muddy and much more narrow. Barking dogs, muffled voices, remote knock of a train's wheels make you think wider and open the mind. You catch some sour smack in the air and reminisce about this wild apples' smell. Actually smells here much differ. They are as mild and soft and extremely pleasant so you want them to accompany you everywhere.
It's getting dark and the nature is going to fall into the night, as it feels it. Your hands are frozen, so is the nose; and the ground, you're sitting on, is already cold. The sky is bright and colourful due to the evening sun and the air's getting stronger.

The usual evening in an unusual cafe

   Soft lighting comforts a cozy cafe. A pretty little art gallery on the wall displays still-life near modern pictures. Leather sofas are so soft and convenient that every muscle of your tired body seems to relax.Unobtrusive music distracts from everyday routine and pushes your troubles behind the door. The smell of cinnamon and apples brings back the warm memories of childhood. Tart and sweet mulled wine warms inside.

  Near the bar the cook is making your pizza in a little kitchen and the smell of freshly baked dough teases your empty stomach. At last, the waitress brings you a long-expected portion of  Caesar salad, a hot sandwich with golden crust on the slices of bread and a plate with fresh french-fries dressed with flavoured sauce. Finally, you appease the terrible hunger and this brings you pleasure and serenity. 

  However, nothing can be perfect. A family occupies a table behind you. Their tiny tot starts crying aloud that annoys everybody in the cafe. For a wonder, his mother is able to calm her baby down and everything becomes peaceful and quiet again. 

Karavaitcev visual writing

 I could not imagine that this place would be so crowded. Two days ago I was sure that this city is quiet and serene. So I'm very disappointed. The most correct words to describe everything here are dark and depressive. The historic center is full of same gray buildings which are reconstructed into restaurants and endless gift shops. Cars and people come and go, street sweepers, trucks, taxes and scooters block all the way. The strong toxic smell of petrol makes me sick. But the most annoying thing here is the noise. People's voices, the roar of cars and crowd mixed into one unbearable symphony which is worse than gnashing of metal. The beginning of my vocation became a headache. Unwittingly.

One More Rainy Day

                Cold rain gushes on the face and trickles under the collar. Rainwater squishes in the gumshoes, the clothes cling to the body. It is kind of silly to go outside in a nasty cloudy day like that without an umbrella. A rare being would walk around a deserted park in such  weather instead of sitting at home under a blanket with a cup of tea and watching a favorite TV-show. Cars roar and music hums somewhere beyond the park. Sounds seem very familiar, maybe it is The Rolling Stones or Red Hot Chili Peppers.

                A young boy runs past. He tries to draw up the red hood almost to his nose with one hand and wraps a transparent plastic bag with oranges inside with the other hand. For a moment citrus fragrance smacks through the smell of the wet ground. After a few seconds the boy disappears around the corner that leads to the exit from park’s territory. At this moment, a lightning flashes through the dark louring sky, a thunder-blast deafens  a signaling driver’s horn . A frightened white cat bounces out of the bench with the tail between the legs and hides somewhere in the hedge of rose bushes. I accelerate my steps to  get home sooner and not to get  pneumonia.  

                Already near the gate the rain stops as suddenly as it started. Music freezes and roar of the traffic disappears. In an instant, the town immerses into calmness and silence.

The Sunny Day

The Sunny Day

    Sun warmes my face. Wind blows over the flowers. A large glade is all full of dandelions, bluettes, and daisies. The smell sweetens the glade. I am sitting on the soft green grass among beautiful flowers. The flowers are everywhere. Many bees are working. Some bees are just choosing the flower from which they would like to pick up nectar and pollen. One bee is so close that I can see every part of it. It has chosen the dandelion and now is flying above it preparing to sit down. Finally it is on the flower. Now it is faded for a few seconds. Other bees are humming and flying above the flowers. They are buzzing and humming. Soft and warm breeze tickles my face. Suddenly another bee comes here. It wants to pick up the nectar too. It begins with the pollen and when it has enough, it flies to another flower nearby this one. The bees are doubled. They dash and hum all day long.

The Mystic Flat

The Mystic Flat

    Nobody, except the two girls, would have thought that something is wrong with the old flat in a brick shabby house. This little, dark flat with dim, shady rooms has own hidden from prying eyes secrets.
    А strange odor which presents here pervades in all the cracks and splits of this place. This is the odor of hopelessness and desperation. From time to time, it becomes so strong that unexpected desire to jump through the window of the rotten balcony comes to everyone's mind.
    Not only smell of this unpleasant place may disrupt the usual order of thoughts in the head of everyone who visits this place. At the first visit, the eye catches dirty brown, longstanding furniture with its all artsy patterns, frayed corners and cracked doors. From time to time, the doors make squeaky noises, which sink down into the soul of uninvited visitors. At nights, the cold howling breeze blowing at the girls’ faces. It makes heart beat faster.
   On the shelves of the cupboards, weird things lie in a mess. It is hard to imagine how they got here. For example, a small jar with something incomprehensible and repulsive - looking or a bunch of huge keys which looks as if it has not been used for a hundred years. On the back shelves, creepy, porcelain dolls are sitting with a grin on their faces.
     At night, the girls hear terrible sounds ringing out around the flat. So, in deep night the floor squeak or awful rustles sound throughout the apartment and mysterious whisper murmurs to the girls, causing an expression of horror on their faces.

  And just before a dawn everything abates, when the first rays of the sun fill the apartment with balmy, soft lights and only at this time it seems that this place gets quiet and calming. Everything here is nestled by a weightless layer of dust, as if the flat takes care of its things by covering them with a blanket. And girls sleep heavily in their warm, fluffy beds.