Previously it never crossed my mind how raindrops stay on the vertical glass surface. Just like them, drops of emotions linger on my hair ends, and when they merge together, unable to hold on, they dribble down flooding all around. And I stand in this 'emotion column' and wherever I look – everything is fancifully distorted, like viewed though a liquid water prism. Or sometimes it doesn’t give them time to come out to the surface, for public inspection, and they seethe silently inside, like a gently boiling broth. May it come out, everyone will see it in their own way, because right in this moment everyone is bathing in their own feelings, lives with their own life experience. Too bad, we’ve only verbal and visual means of expressing our perceptions. All means will always remain INDIRECT. Technically, why not: that is maybe the root of diversity. But on the other hand, that a real pity that a DIRECT way doesn’t exist, that is just PASSING one’s emotions to someone else, grow them in the hands – weightless colorful mass – and place them right into their hands, so that they could see them and feel them TRULY.
Sometimes it makes me scared to think that no one ever saw this world.
