Ангел Марин

Do you know that summer in winter is sleeping in your attic in the glass jars under the blanket of sugar, that a lowly button is a younger sister as much to anyone you think? – for a real jewel, that the stars – it is sprays of an evening cup of warm milk on the celestial tablecloth of dark silk, that from a spoon of flower honey by people are grow a dreams, yes - yes! and there is not far to the wings, that between a pages of a books are hidden an invisible seeds – to throw it into the ground in light of a street lamp - and will grow miracles, that in each soapy bubble is inhabits a tiny, hand-domesticated of generations of enthusiastic children, soapy rainbow.

The world is so wonderfully arranged: from meetings and partings, expectations, a roads, follies, tenderness, misunderstandings, attachments, inexplicable impulses, coincidences, accidents, tangles, no recognitions and recognitions, errors and fatal decisions, sacrifices, renunciations, clumsy notes, funny confessions - even I, even you and I would not have come up with the best!