"here is the sea, when we’re climbing up the ladder of singing: we, who are having the day sweetness penetrating into our lungs. The congratulations, the expressions, the discreet meetings with a reader, which are given by us are – the strict rules. Today, the water is the state of aggregation of the glass fear, the horror of time, which appears on the order of the civilian chapter – That’s what I’ve stated, and after all the city didn’t dazzle me, degrading the scale of poets’ unfortunate deaths, the grudges in the name of the Universe, (the pulled out weeds. I escaped from the crime scene, not feeling the coloration of this poetry). Me, poured into the bottles, I’m putting my hand on the suitcases, being delirious, only on the way having the fixed priorities, (reading poetry – don’t go into the basement, you floating comma), – a root and a leaf are cooperating, an oak is surviving the beginning, the mantra of the lost generations. Where are the clay flasks lying the flasks of absolved whines? And our home, it is an open heart of Descartes, today the abnormality of the art is giving rise to doubts, (everything is based on talents)."