Andrey Kiritchenko, Francisco Lopez. Mavje.

every breathing

and every full stop in the end

entail continuation

so big as a quiet surprise

and unhurried as though a drop of honey on one's palm

this space does not wait till you make the first step – it shrouds you at once, leads, rolls, pushes unnoticeably – warm air over tarred railroad ties – and you do not dive and do not enter, but at once... you stay here so as if it has been and is and will be so – naturally – you are there, you find, you know... you do not listen – you breathe with these sounds and this unobtrusive, sometimes barely noticeable pulse meets quiet things... noise of a light rain, midday heat in a sweet-scented field, lilac shadows on the snow, which has not yet been marked with a single imprint... this space does not wait while you make the first step – it releases you, takes away, pushes out – listen, watch, absorb, get filled – possibly, once you will no longer need mirrors... amid a field, in the rain, behind the snow, in the wind... listen.

Anton Jozhik Leyba (Hedgehog)