The other day I had a very unusual dream. It's as if I'm walking on a flowering field, among fragrant herbs. Flooded with crimson light of the sun setting over the horizon. I walk slowly picking through the grass, admiring such beautiful and at the same time imperfect wild flowers, cornflowers are especially remembered. They looked strange in the crimson light, somehow critically organic. And I understand that those cornflowers are my own memories ... Here are those closer, clear ones that still have roots in the ground - recent memories. Memories are filled with details and vivid feelings. I immediately wanted to look back. Do you often turn to your own memories ?! To those who were a long time ago, in a distant childhood ?!
These memories are also similar to cornflowers, but those that are further away, as if detached from the ground, fly into the sky. Those that have indistinct outlines, but fill the soul with bright emotions, which make the heart warm and cozy ...
