Someone was doing paintings
… And return to love.
Memory loves salutes. The dry shots are empty at the cemetery … Artillery volleys for parting with those who were strong and powerful in the world of this …
But the grief of Anatolian friends and sister-in-law artists echoed a salute strange and unlike others. On the border with the Murovanakurilovetsky district, where all the sources are healing, and nature makes the soul of the paradise, where the forest saves everything fleetingly, they lifted the rifle into an unbroken top. Continue reading