There are people...

There are people cut from the tree: they are strong, reliable, but not very interesting.
You look so in the eye, and there - the circles of past years and nothing more, nothing at all ...
You knock at his heart, and in response - the hollow sound of a hollow tree.
Not because there is nothing there, but because you can not hear the rest; To see you is not given and even more so.



There are people molded from papier-mâché: they are executed, as a rule, carefully, so that you can see the prints of someone's neat fingers, carefully embodying their idea in life. Painted with all the colors of the rainbow, they show off to each other with unusual shapes and a combination of contrasts, draw before each second and slowly deteriorate without the breath of life of their creator.



There are people fused with cranberry ice: they break into our life with a fresh wind and fill all the corners of frightened souls in the evening sea tide. They support us, cherish our dreams and hopes until one evening they run out of their seemingly endless virtues and disappear, leaving a slight taste of summer mood.



There are people forged from steel: they do not bend under any wind, they go forward - no matter what ways, they achieve their own - whatever methods they use. Shining in the sun and indulging awe in the night, they inspire respect for strength and steadfastness, without looking back at more subtle mental matters.



There are people cut out of paper: they are proud of their sharp angles and smooth lines, but are ashamed of the plane, from that they twist around their axis. It turns out such an eternal yule with quirks, with which it's hard not to live - to communicate. It would be better if we already calmed down, to God.



There are people woven from dandelions: they radiate the sunlight all around, appearing as good wizards only when necessary; Create around us a thin film of stainless steel called "friendship" and stay close. I want to believe that these dandelions are weaving without tearing, otherwise, whatever one may say, they are doomed to wither. On the other hand: who is not doomed?



There are people lined with bricks: yes, it's behind them, "like a stone wall," if you do not go into details and details. Their views always amaze with their steadfastness and surprise with their constancy. These usually have a rise at 06:30, breakfast, a glass of orange juice, a whole day of nothing producing work, a TV (golf, book, poker, internet) and a call out at 23:00. A real hell on Earth, is not it?



There are people made up of words: they correctly write, paint figuratively, masterfully speak, skillfully talk. They can chat, talk and leave in complete perplexity. In this case, smart specimens prefer to remain silent.


There are people who are cooked from milk chocolate: they are cozy, atmospheric, and, most importantly, quite sweet. Like the product of manufacture, they would be served for a five-hour tea with oatmeal cookies and rahat-lukum. With such good, as long as the temperature is roomy, and as soon as it gets hot - well, you understand what I'm talking about - they turn into a sticky helpless substance that is not something that does not save, and treacherously embroil your feet, forging saving movements. But, to tea - are good, you can not argue.



There are people associated with wool: they provide heat (inside and outside) anywhere in the world, warming your heart with countless souls. The wool has now risen in price, that's why people have become fewer, but somebody is lucky from time to time-you can find this man himself and shake a little with a smile on his face in the rays of his love. Happens in life is happiness.

by Kal Gajoum paintings for sale