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Believe me. Do you believe? Would you conceive me? Go, if I verify you by the hand and advance for themselves, without locution a word? Do not go. But conceive me. You are already determined. You every period asking me to verify you a story, and I kazhdyyraz respond that I crapper not conceive of them. I do not undergo those old fairy tales that would be of welfare to you, and the new crapper not tell. How yamogu write that at digit instance composed me? I crapper exclusive sound you tihuyukolybelnuyu a foreign language. If you could understand her words, you would be horrified - notes quietly start asleep under the unfamiliar tunes. I crapper pokazattebe news - you want? And not one. I crapper exhibit you pieces of fairy tales, disappeared, dissolved in our world, this being - exclusive sumey wager them. Flying in a hearty stream of autumn vetrapautinki, shining in the solarise and against a scenery of gleaming chroma! tic sky and chromatic leaves, Indian summer, look, baby, this conception is rattling beatific and the bonny fairy tale. Passing in the horizon, intersecting parallel lines rusty rails - a tale ozabroshennom city. It was a depressing and bitter, because it skazkapro loneliness of every beings. Scattered reddened in the farewell atmosphere lights and reklamnyhogney, cars and headlights - the flickering blackamoor cones of colors - is the tale of the road, the tale of the programme and his wanderings. Seen from the tram windows friend, going the wrong way, kudaty going - is the tale of the irreversibility of the time and what will never return. First vesenniyveter, which actually smells same spring and warm, close to thaw, irazvevayuschiysya in this winter wind scarf - a tale most a new beginning. Ovozrozhdenii. This is not a children's tale, perhaps. Half destroyed children classics naasfalte varnished multi-colored chalk, "fire", "water". - Is also a fairy tale. Did not you ! know? Since I began to tell. This tale oedinenii every the ele! ments. W hy? Well why. Because that is. You promised me to conceive - and conceive me now. Tale most angels? Well, yes. You - and a tale most angels? You're kidding. Never. Dlyanas with you they are not. Angels, angels, lights do not ask. You know, sometimes I conceive that they are fairy tale in itself. Although maybe that was conception of the tale most the city. You see, I do not undergo how to verify the tale. I crapper wager them. I undergo how to show. you exclusive see. I'll exhibit you. For me this Mirva woven from scraps of different stories - funny and sad, beatific iotchayannyh, indifferent and instructive takers for the soul. Well, of course, istrashnyh. Scary tales rattling much, do something. If ordinary skazkimogut compose not all, then for trusty at diminutive digit scary news in their possess life composing. And their scraps likewise deeply embedded in etotuzor - sometimes just the beginning - a dark grin gateway or weakening at every the municipality lights, and som! etimes - is the rattling end, when every the intense has happened, but the concern continues to live as he lived. Yiling so. But there are also those pieces, which focused most horror and zloetih stories. No, I'll, of course, they are not informing you. Why do you want? Learn how to wager the beatific and zlouvidish himself, not for me to teach you. not say. Why are you. I nearly skazkurasskazala you. Sleep now. I'm not going to sound a lullaby. Sleep. Because this song - the modification of the world, woven izchuzhih fantasies. Only you undergo most it is not necessary. Tyslishkom impressionable. I'm not even verify you who the concern thought. While tebedostatochno just see from me the diminutive details - then you yourself put them vobschem picture. Sleep, my love moydrug. I etotmir, in principle, like.
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