Waiting for some rain, waiting for grass, for a breeze which will carry my life into something what is called ‘everyday’. Each day I come and look how the pride of my heart grows. MY GRASS. How to divide one rain into three grasses? How to try, try to achieve one’s goals? Satisfaction guaranteed in the time of unemployment. Integration of the old fashioned buildings with new dimension of the architecture, recently abutting to concrete misunderstanding and fascinated song of the pigeon buried in my garden. Underneath my grass.
Nowhere I do chase, in the Time I do remain, with time I do not run. In general we do not run together. I stand here and wait. Without sparkles, without fierce changes. In all – just boredom.