𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕥𝕖 𝕪𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕕𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤

why dont you take some pictures of moss on your way home and maybe youll feel better

A faithful and virtuous night // part 1

The Fallen - 25 colours

Source: poeticalphotos

I woke up almost at dawn. Outside, the smoke from the chimneys suddenly turned pink, as did the birches in the neighboring yard. A delicate pink, January-like color from my old winter dreams.

After ten, at the eleventh hour, I went for a walk. A little snow fell overnight, roads and isolated puddles froze, and the thermometer showed exactly -5°C. I remember falling asleep at night thinking about the rain, about why it suddenly became very quiet outside. The next minute, I heard a strong sound of raindrops on the window and sill, but very soon everything subsided, and, in all likelihood, the rain turned into the sound of falling snow.

I visited a stream in the village of Ugolevshchyna on the way. I found a small ferry made of branches, and almost fell into a swampy place when I wanted to get closer and take a picture of the view. Looking at the other side of the reservoir, I remembered how I jumped along the banks in the spring with the risk of falling into the water, but with the opportunity to find as many marsh kaluzhnitsa as possible, of which there were a lot that season.

A village dog I had known for a long time followed me relentlessly, barking, almost to the very end of the village. I couldn't even look at the abandoned house in solitude for the hundredth time, which is getting worse and worse every month and year… This time, half of the roof collapsed, which made it much more dangerous to be inside. I found plenty of Soviet-era newspapers on the back of torn wallpaper; nothing remarkable. My memories revolved around the moments when I came here on my birthday, and how I liked the door on the back of the dwelling, its safety, «vitality», and colorfulness against the background of dark greenery after the June rain. I think it hasn't changed its position since those days–it's still slightly ajar. However, you can't move her anymore.

January 3, 2025; part one

These Tiled Steps In San Francisco Glow At Night From The Moonlight

Heiko Hellwig: Silicon Cities (2017)

Colorful Circuit Cities Built From Motherboards, Processors, and Microchips. Hellwig built these cityscapes last year using the guts of old MacBooks, IBMs, and even PlayStations that he scavenged from eBay and friends' basements.

I grew up very sheltered. 

I had to be home before dark, couldn't have a single drop of alcohol before I was legal, my friends needed to be approved by my dad. 

Wear extra socks, conservative clothing, limited time indoors, plates needed to be cleaned of all food, no wasting.

It was a life which raised me to make me more dependent but, to me it made me more independent. But regardless of the independence I learned, I cannot deny that I was sheltered.

Living on my own made me realize all of this, where almost everyone in my college class has tried mushrooms at least once before graduating high school. Everyone is a stoner in some way, and are either high when you meet them or smokes a joint and won’t hesitate to offer you a ride home. And some of my closest friends talk about drugs as some fun activity they do on the weekends. 

It started making me curious. 

“I want to try. At least once.”

Well, I just experienced my roommate’s sister having an overdose in the hallway. And all thoughts of drugs now make my skin crawl.

I believe I was raised right. Which is not to say that my friends who do decide to use substances like these weren’t. 

Her name’s Sarah, and she is 17 years old, currently in the hospital after overdosing on a type of drug which I have no idea about. 

I was sheltered by today's standards, but now I think I was just protected. Because I know for a fact that my dad, who was in his prime in the 80’s, had probably tried every type of drug available under the sun. 

And drugs are a secret popular thing, they don’t talk about it publicly. But ask a friend, and they will probably tell you “Yes, I did acid before.” and tell you all about their life altering experience like it's a must have lesson one must go through. Not a lesson in “don’t do drugs” but a lesson in “do drugs”.

I hate it.

I hate it so much I don't want to make friends anymore. 

Despite the fact that they are all okay with your choices to do or not to do drugs, it's there…

It’s insanely accessible. And that’s what scares me. Because all I have to do is ask.