Всегда теперь буду так делать. Флоренция в де...

I will always do that now. Florence to this day. The power of the switch is impressive: in the morning I drove along the swooning avenue from Stalker covered with snow, and here the sun, so many smells, sounds, colors. In the evening, silence descends on the city, unknown to the inhabitants of megacities, such as London and Moscow. It flows through its streets, as Arno flows in its clay channel, in the channel of the color of brick, in the brick of the color of the earth that gave birth to the city. Time floods it, floods it, splashes between the walls, and the shadows separate from the dark space under the long angular Florentine visors, and now Dante’s voice is heard around the corner, now the creak of the pen from behind the open shutters, here is the Guelph spy (or gibellins?) Lurking in the gateway, here is the countdown, sixteenth, fifteenth ... Is it important time? Is it at all? I see traces of Michelangelo’s cutter on Carrara marble. Time does not exist, beauty, love and the human mind are immortal.