After-repair time ...
After-repair time ... illness began, which came suddenly, and who lurked in a long time, there somewhere in the recesses, as if they wanted to cool one's heels just the right moment to attack. I attacked ... erecting a stop sign. A long-forgotten word ENOUGH ... nabralo again irrelevant. And helpless as a child, confined to a bed, with some attacks of fever and cough, otherworldly ... brought to its knees ... I could not already do, and everything suddenly ceased to have any meaning. So many, so many words, so many conversations ... and everything ... such little importance. And staring at the clock beside the bed ... countdown, as if nothing existed outside of it is not! And can there really?!
Tick tock tick tock ...
time clock beats ... measuring the seconds, minutes, hours, days, years ... Years inches, which included a human life. So many things to do ... so many urgent matters ... And suddenly it all in one moment ... becomes so few important ... and a house .... and agent B ... and the angel of M. .. and all the rest. Clock time is relentless and does not donate even one minute! And I thought that is given me to all eternity, I thought that I was Master of the Universe .... And I have only YOU. And I have my time.
Tick tock tick tock ... Time Clock speaks so patiently, as the unruly child ... Explains the hundredth time, th ...! And it gives you another chance! Yes, yes ... I know! Already know.! Go away! ... I begged, with tears in his eyes ... ... enough already! Not yet, not yet time to ... I hear the cold voice of my Mistress ... who came uninvited, as usual, and hands that ... abruptly hung my fate. Not yet time ... and a new attack of fever and cough can know about yourself. Knocks on knees, as if to pull me souls!
Tick tock tick tock ...
I can only deduct. I feel so miserable ... shrinkage and becomes ... pollen ... Spins there somewhere in the universe with a thousand other pollen ... to then fall to the ground and cease to exist. The only one, is a priceless moment pylkowi.
I am now a humble and submissive, not like one day. Once I treated disease with neglect, and now I know what comes after. I know I always have something hidden up his sleeve ... and that something always surprises me, and that actually ... I should be grateful. It acquires with time, nothing is given right away, it's time for everything.
Tick tock tick tock ...
And when finally gone ... My Mistress ... And where was enough ... and I could get up ... and again look at the world through the eyes of a child ... and moved as if I was from Chinese porcelain, fearing that the bigger movement scatters into a thousand tiny pieces. And if I could brew tea ... doing this ritual ... savoring its taste and smell. And when afterwards with a cup of tea in hand, in the chair, I could look at snowflakes through the window, feeling the joy of a child and wondering ... of it is already winter ... of december .... and with the holidays soon.
Tick tock tick tock ....
Snowflakes swirls outside the window so gently, so gently ... Linger on them ... And I could just sit and watch for hours, thinking about the miracle of nature. And as for not looking, then I think that they surely did not represent the shape of stars, as I always seemed, rather reminiscent of swans down ... Someone like there on top of a blanket of Downy trzepal ... pen and white swans lazily fall on the earth! Being a child tried to hail them in the bag, wishing to have stars from the sky ... and every breath I ran into the house and I watched in disappointment ... water at the bottom of the bag. White feathers behind the window are getting bigger and lazily fly first, and then spins faster and faster, falling on the window sill and arranged in a blanket of Downy. Stared at them, zapomninajac, the last almost just ran.
Tick tock tick tock ... What
silence. What is peace ... And the whiteness of the window. Biel is calm. I like winter, and most of November and december ... These two dark months have something magical in itself, as if some sort of concealed secrets!? I like to light a candle and then sit staring at her hot flame ... White fluffy duvet
enveloped the world, who had become at once some more beautiful. I pozakrywal all these imperfections and the filth of this world. And I've got time, I have time for what is important, because it does not matter what you do not already have ... laughed my time in the face! Swans pen behind the window began to grow, but still some were lazy. I remember how as a child, I liked them and look at the patterns on the glass, which he painted Jack Frost, as his mother said. They were like works of art. Or icicles ... which with such relish August lizalo? Or when the flakes of snow laughing lapalismy who nalapie more! And when szalelismy sledding, and then from zarumienionymi from frost and joy cheeks utytlani snow we returned to a warm home to warm up the stove and hear the stories of the next winter. Now one no longer hears the stories of winter ... and who would be there telling the? Waste of time. Winter gave so much fun! Can now also gives ... Or has it become a curse, which most wymazaloby August from the calendar once and for all! And only children always enjoy the winter. Because children are something wonderful.
Tick tock tick tock ... Already
south I think, looking at the sky. Actually, I do not care hours. Surely I have the time. I have the time to do what's important, say the voice. Time should be measured out sunrises and sunsets ... Yes, people have been doing the past and it was good. In the city it was impossible in this constant race ... at work ... The paper ... I thought about my work that nothing, nothing ... types of harvesting money I can not ... stepiajac soul and mind. And it really ... what I am doing it correctly?! Nothing!
Tick tock tick tock. Time clock again reminded about yourself.
I got up and walked to his desk, opened the smallest of the drawers and took out a fountain pen ... Turned them in your hand for a moment, as if seeing it for the first time ... When was the last time I wrote it, thought a moment. Before you for months ... because I did not have time. Because I did not have time to do what I like. Tick \u200b\u200btock tick tock ... Reached for a piece of paper and I wrote what I felt, I wrote saying the work, which you did before ... NOTHING! I felt like an invisible weight are any ... I suddenly falls from the heart. I felt joy. I looked with affection on the pen, already knowing what I do.
Tick tock tick tock ... Once
written in August just a pen. I remember as a permanent class of rows of wooden benches with the green sloping top and bench seats, forming a single unit, how beautiful! And in the middle of the countertop was a place on the inkstand. The glass inkwell, which you filled in blue ink. All we wrote with a pen, it was just ordinary plastic or wooden penholder, to which you put on a nib in August, which dipped in blue ink wyczarowywala letters. Government evenly wykaligrafowanych letters with round brzuszkach. A veritable masterpiece! And the lady she said that the pen is used for making character and the handwriting is known by man.
we had to struggle so much that the letters were equal, and not to splash ink notebook ... because one could get their hands from you. And then the letters przykladalo pink or white "liniuszek", that is such a tissue and enjoy! The Government of equal letters, drained by the tissue could be seen on paper. But pride! And it did not matter, the cells were splashed ink ... mom and she could scold ... 'What was important when the bursting pride! Then put an the pen to a wooden pencil case with several compartments-a pen, a pencil, the eraser mouse ... so was his name, because she had drawn on top of a mouse ... and on the nib. As in "Plastusiowym my diary" my favorite book. Everything had its place. Everything had its order. I love the feathers and the letters remained to this day.
Tick tock tick tock ...
I like today I remember that summer day when the first time, Helen ran to the house and Wladyslaw ... who with time became my own, and who really remain THEIR ... and when I went through all the rooms one by one ... stopping at last and with great wygrzebujac garbage on the floor ... This one's the only thing ... written list of their hand. And how enchanted I looked at the yellowed sheet of paper, stored in a row rowniutkich letters, written in blue ink faded .... these roztkliwiajacymi any mistakes, relevant only older people, which rozczulily me so much!
pens. Are there really everlasting?
And now? Now, are colored pens, which can be discarded when the sign out and buy new ones. I have already! It's very convenient. Only with this convenience, I do not use. I can not nohow they write. He writes only with a pen or pencil and eraser wipe Mouse. Only the official, as if some sort of premeditation, he writes with a pen, enjoying the soul of the resulting gobbledygook. I have loads of pencils and erasers. I have two handles. One dark-red, the "daily". And the second silver of the "sacred." I'm dreaming still black, with gold nib and two narrow gold stripes at the bottom of nuts ... I know what has to be ... I have them under my eyelids when I close my eyes ... Swans
pen behind the window took on a colossal scale and now are flying very slowly. On my window sill formed wonderful white, soft duvet. What silence. What peace.
Tick tock tick tock ...
took out your journal, to whom I looked not long ago ... because I do not ... No! These words no longer will use. Plotted them out of my life! I have time. I opened. Last Post somewhere in November. Feee ... rude! I took pen in hand and listening to the gentle murmur of the nib on a white paper ... Shur ... Shur ... Shur ... I wrote:
December 7 ... Sitting in an armchair. Not doing anything special, except that ... drinking tea ... I look at snowflakes through the window ... I think a little ... some said ... i. .. I have time.
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