A strange dream Last night, I had a very strange dream. l was sitting in the scince class. There were many different maps and books about the most interesting countries. I started to read about Amsterdam, and I found it on the map. In one moment when I touched the map, I found myself in a train that was moving by a beautiful bridge, and l remembered the picture in the book, l felt scared when l understood that l were in Amsterdam. At this moment l got up, and this dream was so realistic that l even thought it was a teleportation.
The clouds are gray, gloomy, rain is not far off. autumn. bare ground fog zavoloka. that is my only weapon of satiety, the only weapon to keep warm, sporting, strigunka catches in the steppe strigunok. no grass, no tulips. and everywhere was quiet voiced hubbub of children, young guys laughing. and the trees, like the poor old men, are the bare, bereft of their leaves. the skin of a bull, a sheep in a tub tan. repairing old coats and quilted robe. moloduha patch leaky tent, and the old woman for weeks suchat thread. shoals stretched south cranes. caravans of camels passed under them, and in the villages - gloom and silence. laughter fun games were away: winds, becoming colder, chill hurts and old people and children. dogs catch hungry mice field, unable to find, as it did, scraps, bones, wind raises dust - over the steppe black. autumn, damp. but already opened - bad habits - can not kindle the fire. our yurts are now uncomfortably dark.
