Having plucked up to turning blue in the sea from my own enthusiastic illusions, I want to go ashore. Warm yourself under the warm sun, walk barefoot on the hot and such nice sand. I want stability, even breathing and a calm rhythm of the heart, which is so tired of tearing apart from constant emotions and feelings. Choking more than once in your disappointments and almost drowning from the injustice of those whom I accepted with all my heart, but who did not accept you to the end, you just start living. Walking on a flat surface of the Earth, almost not looking to the stars. What are they, indeed, if you still don’t reach a single hand? Why are they, if no one is able to appreciate their flickering beauty like that one? Having folded your now unnecessary wings, and hiding them under a thick layer of clothes, you become the same as everyone. You put your last dream into a pawnshop and calmly exhale: "That's all, these ridiculous attempts to remake reality are enough." You release everyone from yourself to freedom, you no longer need anyone, because everyone is still not forever. And it becomes so good for you, so easy, until one beautiful starry night dreams of an ocean with an impudent wave running at your feet, calling to itself ...