Home

Home,
Sweet
Home
- is
There,
Where I am always warm and cozy,
There
Where I am never sad

***
On the table, two mugs are warming up, in which tea bags fly in the reflections of the lamps. In a pot, stars of pasta are spinning, and on the table, a knife is rhythmically tapping, cutting vegetables, while clothes are spinning in the washing machine. It seems that everything around is so unfamiliar: people, walls, furniture, time, air — but here, in this subdued light, the flow of time stops and only this room remains in the world, full of coziness and warmth. This tired and at the same time so homely look, thin and so beautiful fingers of the hands, covered in veins and plucking through the air, a slightly hunched pose, which for some reason always reminds me of a wolf, sharp stubble, with a barely noticeable reddish tint, and a gentle smile framed by the blush of the cheeks. The conversation in low voices stretches out like a thin silk fiber, interrupted by a light and such a calm silence…)

***
…thank you for coming!