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Knock, knock knock, the echo rushes with a knock, looks with big blue eyes at small
stars, similar to inept, thin lines, at something that can only be imagined in the reality
of a dream.

The woman raised her hand, scratched the bridge of her nose with thin fingers and
fell asleep, sleep lured the mind, took away like an inept, never resisting donkey, gray
and unremarkable, like the substance itself...

The conductor tapped her heels on the carpeted floor....

Sometimes darkness rolled over people, made them pliable and soft and molded evil and soulless, and they did not feel and stood on the sides of the road, looked at
something with the hollows of whitening eyes and withdrew into themselves...

And you tell me? Have you ever thought about how a train moves, how it changes its
course, how shadows run unnoticed along the carriage, leaving blue little spots, more
like sparrow droppings... The woman whispered almost into the boy's ears: "climb in
and don't close... Try..." and stuck out her small forked snake tongue... She was the
only one in the carriage and no one noticed her peculiarity, and in her nose the silver
earring dangled in time with the modest monotonous running of the wheels
"you...you...we"...

The last word stumbled over itself, leaving black drops on the glass, thundered
somewhere far away, and in the distance the orange smoke of the clouds curled, soon dawn and the sun wildly dispersed the darkness...

This orange light seemed alive, mystical, like a ghost in a cemetery...

And she there on the white pillows fell asleep, now the sun is only a distant sketch
the clumsy brush was ugly and unyielding in a dream, blinded the pupils and burned
the grass... Ah, yes... Grass, grass... still grass and she sank even deeper into herself...

-Irina Tall