Alena Zhandarova (Rusia)
The city of brides I love my city. It’s saturated by leisurely atmosphere and gentle fog in the mornings. My windows face to the north, and the Big Dipper hugs my sleep at nights. Everything is very simple here. The city breathes calmness and quietness. People. Their hearts are beating. But sometimes they don't have a clue about it. If it's rain, everybody tryie to hide under the peak of the houses and shops, like a thick herring. Everybody is very different here. Happy and miserable. As in any other city. One by himself, one for effect. Somewhere inside, somewhere out. Something is honest, and not so much. Who art thou? And why did you come? Where is your place and where is your home? The air, wind, silence Are they yours or not? Only swallows know the truth. It's always better to see. from Above. It's my city. Formed by heartfulness and the milk of human kindness. Hopes and expectations. By dreams Commotions Anticipations Eyes to eyes Everything is naturally Walking by smoother gait Ivanovo It is the city of brides.