“The house was empty. And life is empty. Hole”.
The entry in the old-fashioned Diary. And another short phrase:
“The song died.”
That’s right – not the Pesia and the Song. You think it’s a coincidence? No. Nothing happens by chance.
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She was sick a long time and everyone was prepared for the fact that the Dis (or Song) will go somewhere in other worlds. I wonder if dogs have a heaven? Their own dog? Or where we can be together, because he is one at all?
Maybe us people, do not let go, where they continue their lives of creatures called the last angels on Earth?
This is the place where there is always a lot of tasty seed, and they can chew on without fear of injury. They all live in harmony, and it doesn’t matter – whether a tie, a homeless creature, who was born nobody knows why, and what flour, or you’re favored by the people the dog is of noble blood, for which was paid a certain number of full-length bills.
There is no squeamish views of people who wash their hands if I had accidentally touched dog hair.
There are all equal.
But who knows what is “out THERE”? Who came back and could tell eager to know – what the hell?
Is it because we have fear before Leaving? We don’t know what awaits us. We are not even afraid of the unknown, it is not possible torment and punishment for sins, and that we will lose ourselves. The self, personal characteristics. Like so – me – and never will. Absolutely! And will not those whom we loved.
…. Little Puppy with a strange name Pesia was running around the room, rejoicing at the pouring out the window sunlight. How many new smells! All the fun! But most of all he was attracted by Her eyes. That is destined to go with him, until, until… Well, you understand.
Her eyes are always a little sad, as he had already noticed. Eyes looking like on the inside and he removed the external hustle and bustle. She seems to know a lot, but doesn’t want to talk about it to anybody. He, the Pesia will hear from Her many things which did not know another living soul. It is yet to come…
Mirror, large, luxurious, elegant. It stands in the corner of the room.
It affects the whole world… well, almost all.
Pesya runs trustingly towards this world, but… hits a wall that cannot be overcome. A solid wall, able to cause pain. The reflection is deceptive. But that’s not all! The mirror shudders, as it passes waves the ripples, as on water and…
A great many pieces, each with the same peace, only an infinitely small. But holding the tears of joy and sorrow, disappointment in people and wondrous discovery, travel, reality and magic dreams, bustle and quiet, sunrises and sunsets… the List is endless and all this has to go. Pesia and Her.
Corny, you say? The comparison of life and mirrors?
In this life all is banal. How can you argue?
All trite, but the phrase, which was written by mistake with a typo: the Song is dead… And a small fragment of the world, which She holds in the palm of your hand…
