I look out of the window. I see a cherry tree. on one of the branches there is a white flower. I see wind blowing, I see the cold raging and reaching out for it with it's fingers. But the flower doesn't perish, it stands and it keeps standing, against the opposing weather.
A week goes by. A month runs past. And of the flower fruit is born.
Inside the fruit there is a seed. A bird eats the fruit. Only the seed is left.
The seed is lying under the earth, day after day. And finally a great tree looks up.
I run a team called Sethdetr [I am not SA 'cause I don't have premium], It's a very young team, and You are more than welcome to join
Track of the week, "i'll be holding on, by Greg Allman.
There is a grey street.
There are grey clouds, above the grey street.
There are grey people walking on the street.
There are grey houses on both sides of the street.
There is a grey sign at the end of the street.
A grey limousinne drives through the street.
A boy walks on the street.
A woman falls on the street.
A young man runs on the street.
The boy passes the woman a hand. Blood falls from her knee onto the grey pavement.
She looks at the boy with her grey eyes.
The boy looks intoo her eyes, with his blue eyes.
The man stops running.
The limousinne stops driving.
The people stop walking.
The woman holds the boy’s hand.
Her grey hat falls of, revealing
her black hair.
Her eyes are green.
The woman smiles.
A huge wind is born.
Ash starts to rise from the ground.
From people’s figures, from houses’ walls and roofs, from the pavement’s stones,
from the sign’s plate, from the limousinne’s bodywork.
A grey cloud flies up, and far away.
All grey clouds fly far, far away.
Blue sky is left.
The people’s gaze drops.
They see themselves.
Susanne Zartmann apologises for stepping on Ricardo Diaz’s foot.
Shinjij Kitisori asks Lara Gearson about the way to the city’s centre.
Mirko Zelvenović helps Sophie Koboyate carry her shopping bags.
Viktor Gorbanov talks about man city’s new signings with Ahmed Salem.
Anjana Khan discusses whether red cats are always male, with Yen Hao.
I pick up my bag.
I start putting one foot in front of the other.
I reach the street’s end.
I look upon the sign’s plate.
„I came, I saw, I looked again” Is what I read there.