And a road begings from my doorstep

     I open the door. There, bathing in light and fog, is the whole world. He stalks me, and maybe I'm stalk him. I can never decide who is the stronger one from us both, who is the predator and who the prey. Let's guess it's me. I go out with cheerful walk, I'm descending in the small streets, I wander throughout the city. I search for those small magical things, that are for the rest everyday thing, things that they won't see. Like those construction cranes in the distance, with the dived in fogs bases, and their huge metal construction is moving like separated from earth, overpowered the gravity. And for a moment I decide that they might be aliens, that these are their ships and we are going to make the first contact, me and the other people on the stop and the street. The illusion is short-lived, but yet the beauty of those common armatures, hanging above the concrete construction, stays in my head.

       Or the group of drunks, who at eight in the morning have already bring out the bottles of beer, enjoying the winter sun like lizard and smoking mellow cigars, If you stare in their faces, you see amongs the ruins, the deep markings of their everyday, some kind of deep wisdom, which, if you read correctly, may save your life.

       And these are just examples from the world, which is everywhere, waiting to flood you with information, to show you his' beauty and ugliness, to make you a passenger in his realms. He soaks under the door, in our clothes, in our souls. From the moments in which we are smiling to the sun till those of wandering in the dark. The world is the people, with whom we meet, the place for which we dream, the words in the book and the heroes in the plays and movies.

       The world is big and I want to know him as much as possible...     

       From the beginning of my doorstep.