10/7/10 10:06 pm - 07.10.10Another day. Again and again I imagine myself standing in the middle of crowded street and people passing. It is like I'm not even there, I'm transparent. Everyone rush somewhere. It is like a race to them - life. Do I have to run too? Where? How? And question of all questions - why? I am still waiting for miracles to happen. Is that naive? Probably, but is part of being myself, I guess.
Some people speak alien language to me and I, very possibly, speak alien language to them. Interesting things found out about my so beloved purple color, it is even in my name and my nickname. Sounds Under Radio - Portrait of the summer thief
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