вторник, 17 май 2016 г.

Тrespasser metaphor

The trespasser came again. This time I was awake and observing behind the near tree. I heard the first cry of a smashed blade of grass under his feet. He heard it, too, and smiled. He was making those bloody green traces in the field for years, making me think there's no other path, but his. That is why he comes for, to steal, kill or destroy - grass, happiness, dreams, lives. But not this time. This time I was awake...

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Ще си твърде шумен в библиотеката, ще носиш твърде ярка блуза. Ще бъдеш празната бутилка на пътеката, хайде, дай им неударената буз...