Говорят, что "Жизнь прожить - не поле перейти". И верно! Куда уж нам без воспоминаний "о счастливом, - как говорится, - детстве" и чудачествах детских и даже юношеских лет...

05:53 – My eyes open to a subtle haze and a crescent piercing of soft golden light slowly washing away the harsh noise from the blur of memories and images of the darkness where they are always playing, a few blinks, a few seconds of lost silence and the darkness returns, then a blinding flash of faces , of my first born, “his voice rings out across time and space he is the big ole age of two, its night time, the moon is shining, he slides to me if only to find a way to sit...

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