as I talk about the light, the words radiate the love and my eyes blossom out the gratitude. It happens so from time to time indeed. The last may sound strangely to you, therefore I will try to explain it more profoundly. So ... I just have no time to talk. I'm looking at my pictures and listening to the whispering of my shots. Lots of what I hear don't attract me, yet I can't ignore the truth. This lump of snow looks sorrowfully indeed, because it sees his time ending: the winter past already and the inhabited whiteness of the snowflakes disappeared under the dust of the town.
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