No, not a gloom. I all see. But I see not the present, not last and even not future. In surprising scenery is not present either
spaces, or time. Probably so "see" the superstrings playing the melodies in an interval between time and space. Probably, so the
Universe looks if to manage to throw on it one universal short look stretched from the Beginning by the End. And thus such
simplicity, so difficult and inconsistent opens that are lost and at once drop out of a meditative instant. Our thoughts - our
enemies. We most of all listen to ourselves, we are most of all interesting to ourselves, we everywhere search only for ourselves.
In me flow, turn, jump and billions words sink, I always speak with myself, I watch delirium, nonsense and platitude in the head, I
throw in muddy excrements of a fishing tackle of another's wisdom, trying to catch on a hook of another's errors and errors own
goldfish, or I arrive even worse - I splash out all dregs on a paper where it blurs beautiful roundish letters through which those
rare, river, hilly and dimmy pearls only my guesses, only my true fly by.