Good greetings and welcome to my page, dear stranger. Come in and sit by the fireplace. I hope, you will relish my society.
I suppose, I must now introduce myself. Do not believe the fields about my name, birthday and the town. They are true, but they are lie. They describe me, but just my inner world. As a matter of fact, I was born in Russia in 2001. My name is Daniel, but I hope ye will never call me so. I am who ye would call old‐fashioned. I maintain traditional values (if you are the one of the non‐traditional, go past, we will not find a common language), I am fond of history and foreign languages, and poesy in my passion. I am totally agaist bad the bad habits, the tatoos and piercing and other terrible things. In contrast, I admire the conversation on thorny issue which are not typical for the small talks. Politics? Religion? Modern activist movements? Do not hesistate to ask about it and not just. Such topics are awfully curious for me. But I have two demands: if you start talking bout them, be ready to discussion, not just promoting your points of view − it is so terrible when a person speaks but does not hear the interlocutor. And do not ask me about my relationships and money. Аprès tout, ma vie que vous le vouliez ou pas, c’est ma vie.
What can I say tell about me else? I listen to different genres of songs, but the most favourite genre of mine is rock − the music of protest. And no rap, please, no rap.
My favourite genre of poesy is symbolism.
Finally, I am looking for friends from 18 to 22 years old. if you are interested in conversation with me, the doors are all open to you. But please, do not send me only the friendship requests and write anything more than just ‘Hello’ and ‘How are you?’. Be more creative and do not use curse words. After the text above it is the least I can ask from you. Merci.
I suppose, I must now introduce myself. Do not believe the fields about my name, birthday and the town. They are true, but they are lie. They describe me, but just my inner world. As a matter of fact, I was born in Russia in 2001. My name is Daniel, but I hope ye will never call me so. I am who ye would call old‐fashioned. I maintain traditional values (if you are the one of the non‐traditional, go past, we will not find a common language), I am fond of history and foreign languages, and poesy in my passion. I am totally agaist bad the bad habits, the tatoos and piercing and other terrible things. In contrast, I admire the conversation on thorny issue which are not typical for the small talks. Politics? Religion? Modern activist movements? Do not hesistate to ask about it and not just. Such topics are awfully curious for me. But I have two demands: if you start talking bout them, be ready to discussion, not just promoting your points of view − it is so terrible when a person speaks but does not hear the interlocutor. And do not ask me about my relationships and money. Аprès tout, ma vie que vous le vouliez ou pas, c’est ma vie.
What can I say tell about me else? I listen to different genres of songs, but the most favourite genre of mine is rock − the music of protest. And no rap, please, no rap.
My favourite genre of poesy is symbolism.
Finally, I am looking for friends from 18 to 22 years old. if you are interested in conversation with me, the doors are all open to you. But please, do not send me only the friendship requests and write anything more than just ‘Hello’ and ‘How are you?’. Be more creative and do not use curse words. After the text above it is the least I can ask from you. Merci.
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A dream
It was cold and it was windy
In the cellar of a manor big —
Owner was as usually moody,
At the port was waiting a brig.
It was waiting to carry him up
To a colourful and beautiful island
But it won’t because of his cup
Full of poison for getting his diamond
Because of some rats hating this poor devil
And wanting to get all his treasure.
Who are they to make all this evil?
Will it be his final pleasure?
He was sitting and waiting for something
Looking at the wall ahead,
It was boring and he was crying —
He was in a soul dead.
But at the moment the next
Someone entered the room,
The owner did look perplexed
And the stranger detected the doom.
He came closer and started the talk,
He was telling about the fortune,
It was ten in the near clock
But it was an only illusion.
It’s a story about friendships
That helped to come to the island
By getting a lot of good tips,
Here will be the end of the legend.
(2019)A dream It was cold and it was windy In the cellar of a manor big — Owner was as usually moody, At the port was waiting a brig. It was waiting to carry him up To a colourful and beautiful island But it won’t because of his cup Full of poison for getting his diamond Because of some rats hating this poor devil And wanting to get all his treasure. Who are they to make all this evil? Will it be his final pleasure? He was sitting and waiting for something Looking at the wall ahead, It was boring and he was crying — He was in a soul dead. But at the moment the next Someone entered the room, The owner did look perplexed And the stranger detected the doom. He came closer and started the talk, He was telling about the fortune, It was ten in the near clock But it was an only illusion. It’s a story about friendships That helped to come to the island By getting a lot of good tips, Here will be the end of the legend. (2019)0 Comments 0 Shares 58 ViewsPlease log in to like, share and comment! -
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