I come to this quiet place, and I have heard only a single drop of rain fell in a ravine in betone.Slovno skilled player driving to the ball in the hole. Falling, they are divided into hundreds of brilliant as mercury beads. I stroked the old bench, paint and crackle like scales, leaves on the ground color mosaic. Leisurely wander the paths to put his ear to the cold rail train .... But do not go there for a long time. Listen to their thoughts and feel alive. And sooo far tangle city life, with its eternal desire, to get the right shape. Draws in the wet autumn air with subtle aromas of tar, rusty sheet and brick chips. I think this would be very envious shades Chanel. Watched the birds, today they are my crowd, and I thank God for Every moment of our little fleeting life.