история о странном отеле у перевала. обветшалый указатель «рецепция» ключи не менее странной формы. лабиринт из коридоров неожиданно переходящий в самые разные помещения: кабинет владельца (на столике неизменно стоит табличка «ушел обедать вернусь к полудню»), зеленая комната с припевающим садовником которого нигде не видно, бассейны, подземная парковка где стоят только такси и таксисты играют в карты на ракушки кораллы и камешки разговаривая на незнакомых языках, студия где переодически кто-то что-то лепит/рисует/мастерит, маленький музей где можно увидеть 1. местную статуэтку венеры 2. крохотный акварельный пейзаж очень известного мастера 3. невероятной красоты диадему из золота и хрусталя 4. временную экспозицию новую каждый раз как ее приходится видеть. кто-то из постояльцев поклялся что как-то видел работника ее меняющую но тот исчез стоило им встретиться взглядами; еще довольно редко говорят о то ли комнате с бабочками то ли аквариуме с тропическими рыбками то ли террариуме с необычной растительностью но сведения здесь не однородны а чаще даже в корни различны. кроме выше перечисленых комнат можно также обнаружить себя в разнообразных кладовках, лоджиях, номерах с видом на лес, номерах с видом на скалы, номерах без вида, комнатах персонала, террасе ресторанчика, подвале бара, ванных комнатах и лестничных клетках.
from the far north
to the southwest
i go -
crippled,
torn,
with some rugged dreams
begging the sky
to allow me
one more memory
of long-forgotten days
how far would i last?
when everything feels
more unstable
the further i go
a strange illusion of a gift -
of grace
and unbendable fate
i surrender
if not today…
tomorrow
maybe
i don’t remember
how my face looked
before we met
i don’t remember
looking at the mirror as a child
maybe i was just too short to reach it
those days when the rain is pouring
slowly
steadily
all day through
with a brief moments of vivid blue
i look at you —
hidden
behind the lilac flowers —
colourless light of unknown words
a turquoise stream
flows up the mountain side
and to the times
when i was alone
left by the day
in the hands of night—
i’m sorry
i couldn’t last long enough
to meet you.
i know magnolias are so old—
they bloomed
before bees existed
and i’d love to imagine
that ancient world
blossoming
with myriads of giant flowers
sinking into the ocean of ferns
fluffyn
слышу ласточек
вспоминаю дом
в мешочке за спиной
гречневый хлеб
гуляю в дождь
не переживая что намокну
последние грозы мая
when i walk past
under the newborn needles
of juniper trees
i think about you
the soul of
brightest green
flowers are falling down
after the rain season
i’m sitting in the shade of a tree
ten minutes late to my train
pink chestnut flowers on the wet asphalt
right beneath my feet
such as tender beauty
mixed with cigarette butts
Basic Rules:
Play always moves around the board in a counter-clockwise circle (to the right)
The store on your right belongs to you. That is where you keep the seeds you win.
The six pits near you are your pits.
Only use one hand to pick up and put down seeds.
Once you touch the seeds in a pit, you must move those seeds.
Only put seeds in your own store, not your opponent’s store.
Starting the Game:
On a turn, a player picks up all the seeds in one pit and “sows” them to the right, placing one seed in each of the pits along the way. If you come to your store, then add a seed to your store and continue. You may end up putting seeds in your opponent’s pits along the way.
Play alternates back and forth, with opponents picking up the seeds in one of their pits and distributing them one at a time into the pits on the right, beginning in the pit immediately to the right.
Special Rules:
When the last seed in your hand lands in your store, take another turn.
When the last seed in your hand lands in one of your own pits, if that pit had been empty you get to keep all of the seeds in your opponents pit on the opposite side. Put those captured seeds, as well as the last seed that you just played on your side, into the store.
Ending the Game:
The game is over when one player’s pits are completely empty. The other player takes the seeds remaining in her pits and puts those seeds in her store. Count up the seeds. Whoever has the most seeds wins.
mancala. game of pebbles and pearls.
you’d love the color of the sky these past few morning.
faded memory of blue.
today i dreamt a milky way
mid february.
i’m asking myself am i running away again? someone is whistling in the train. between intertwining morning voices sharp fluctuating whistle is easily distinguishable. we are passing dead winter mornings.
| frame one
corporations. factories. huge glass-iron-concrete structures confidently planted into wide landscapes. revealed by a narrow aureoles of bluish lights.
| frame two
fields.
| frame three
tunnels. slightly lighted stone walls. long dim and cold.
| frame four
lakes and rivers. places of melted lights. long wavy lines of yellow orange and white trembling on the ebony glass surface.
| frame five
arrival terminals. i still can see dreams flocking around passengers’ heads. their eyes seems distant and absent.
nothing really changes. time passes. we ride through the land not in a hurry anymore yet anxious anticipating future farewells.
we dismantle and take a trip through the space reminiscing of a labyrinth or limbo. the lady lazily humming a song. sounds vividly echoing through gigantic shallow space reaching my ear softly like a summer breeze.
we say our goodbyes.
we part ways.
another time another place.
i’m mourning my unlived lives.
it’s no shame to be forgotten
In the beginning, mountains are mountains and rivers are rivers; later on, mountains are not mountains and rivers are not rivers; and still later, mountains are mountains and rivers are rivers.
Eight Immortals of the Wine Cup. reversed moon.
He was a devotee of ancient temples, a fine swordsman, and a great lover of sour plum wine
бой широкого шага
бой краткого шага
“… stepping across the greenish
whips of kelp, the broken shells,
the polished pink sea-glass
and the little cold stones..”
lost.
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