daina-art

A sheet of paper lies on my table. So cold. So speechless. Waiting for words. But the pencil I’m holding is being silent. My thoughts whispers in my head, but won’t speak loudly. Few minutes becomes an hour and an hour – a day. But the pencil still remains calm and the white sheet – empty.

Sometimes I look at the sky and I feel like flying. Like all troubles and fears that chasing me becomes meaningless, so I can barely remember them. I look down to blooming flowers and I can not see anything but their beauty. I hear every single leaf that whispers my name in the wind and I am waiting, listening to stories they want to share with me. Every day I see the world that surrounds me, watch the time running away. But I feel that only one part of me is here and another - somewhere else. Where? I can not explain exactly. Sometimes near, sometimes far away – where dreams and wishes take me. It is the world without lies and cruelty. Whi