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.

Visual writing

Dust is all around, then smoke appears. I smell apples.
I hear the car behind and see another ine right in front of me. The wind blows and spreads dust clouds around me. But I'm happy to feel stable asfalt under my high heels and only 5 minutes later I open a large durty marshrutka's door. Hearing the old man's shortness of breath behind me i come in slowly on purpose. It seemed to me that the roads won't be crowded. If i decided to take a car I wouldn't be able to remember and notice all that.
Somebody pats me on the shoulder to pass the money, I accept but in reality I'm a bit angry because I hear the clutch pedal and see my stop through the open door.