Stanislav Lec said: «The boundaries of paradise are mobile, but always pass through us.» Paradise is different, and for each person it is different, corresponding to the peculiarities of its inner world.
But we believe in heaven and in angels, and the greatness of the soul, which has its own, special path in the physical world.
Garden of Eden. Paintings, sculptures, the smell of fair-haired trees, always young and green. Heat dissipates the air lines. The bird sits on a tree and sings a beautiful song about the love of the world.
The branch is made of silver, and the bird and leaves are made of yellow gold. A drop of a gentle pearl froze on the branch, a symbol of refinement and beauty.
Real beauty does not require long explanations and vivid phrases. We take it into our lives as simply and clearly as the autumn morning or the smell of violets.
... or like a tree singing in a tree in the morning forest. We do not ask why she sits there and what the mechanics of her singing are. We are just immersed in melodic sounds, in subtle associations, in the warm words of her small fluttering body. Feelings, inner strength, depth of emotions — everything is intertwined in this fragile creation.
And when we hear, feel her presence, somewhere far away, the world inside of us freezes. And the universe stops moving for a second. And the atoms thicken to their primitive dimensions, turning into a tiny ear of needles instead of millions of galaxies.