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.