Mist z mynuloho...

Today I’ve got tired, all my body seems to be soft and wadding, and for me all colours are a bit subdued. Usually in such a state you go to bed or look at everything around you a bit aloof. You are not in a hurry. And it is “The Bridge from the Past” that I hear exactly now. And a strange wonderful peace appears. And the time as a categorical datum disappears. Because you hear the sounds of instruments which are already several centuries – banduras and kobzas – and their sounding unconsciously associates in your mind with the figure of an old and sensible musician. And suddenly you hear the voices – and these voices are young. They are not only sad and do not only relate something. They make jokes, they are alive, they are in the middle of the world but not behind the stone wall of the time. They are here with us. So, at this moment you understand that the time is powerless, that nothing disappears without traces.

Anton Jozhik Leyba (Hedgehog)