Rus Articles Journal

Melancholy for the sea...

the Story which begins with the word “sea“ is already impregnated with salt, in it squeal of seagulls and deaf whisper of waves is heard, legs right there plunge into hot yellow sand. Where heart still so knocks? Where still it is so breathed by purity and a wild combination of all paints of the world - from faintly - blue to brightly - blinding gold? It seems, in one word “sea“ one big ball was weaved out of the feelings, experiences mixed in water, the sun and the sky by threads. Here all grieves, tears are forgotten, here offenses do not matter, they are not as there is no confusion here and transiences of city life, behind each tree and in each drop of water here - the world rest and the world secret of huge love to the sea... The sea friendly accepts all - from people and cars to bottles with messages. It joyfully accepts poor and rich, hungry and full and tenderly irons each wave, tremblingly envelops the most delicate breeze. But most of all sea loves loneliness therefore it such touched and silent in the winter, it enjoys clouds, communicates with the girlfriend the Sun and has just a rest, knowing that in the summer his sad loneliness will be disturbed...

does not have

A rest better in the summer, than sea tour! And the chain of cars and trains lasts from any cities, towns and villages, going to the sea. And the sea, sighing each wave, worrying all jellyfishes of the marine organism, waits ashore and smiles.

without differing in Anything in

from others, we too all family go to the sea. In soul - pleasure of expectation and a presentiment of wonderful holiday which the whole year will live in memory, occasionally coming to dreams. You look out of a car window, and the imagination already draws the moment when you tell the sea: “Hi! I so missed you!“ And the sea will answer you with noise of a wave, shout of a seagull, such angry and sad. The sea welcomes all, in the depth of the blue body hoping for a winter cool and loneliness when alone with the sun they are equally gray and sad, but happy waters in a silvery reflection, in a decline of day, in scales of pale fishes.

Ah, it is the sea! There is no summer without the sea, or we just do not want to be in summer without the sea? You mingle with the many-sided crowd and there is joyful, as well as everything, only from the fact that you were lucky to appear at the sea exactly here and now.

Every morning you drowsily put on

a bathing suit and Vietnamese, take an umbrella and a towel, and with all company go on the coast. Also you understand that more perfectly than the morning sea there can be only a sea night.

Since morning so sleepy sea as well as you, it stretches and inertly smiles. Waves hardly - hardly run at each other, even sand seems more softly. Everything breathes in a step to the sea, water still cool, but already hospitable. You lie on a back, having put on glasses on eyes, and look at the sky - clouds doze, encountering one another, something reminding silly cows. And from this languid sequence it becomes so quiet, and it seems that between heart and a stomach at you too the sea. And from it on a body thousands of small insects run up...

Listen... You hear the song? “Hi sun, hi sea, clouds...“ Well, it not from the receiver! It is sung by that big cockleshell, and this small. All of them sing! It not in them rustles the sea, they rustle together with it.

You do not read up this story - you take a backpack, pack things and hurry at the sea! Summer without the sea - such melancholy. Hurry, and you will sing with cockleshells about silent loneliness of the sea, about all small fishes whose steel little bodies slide on a water surface, about a sea smooth surface where find rest of a wave.

Hurry, the sea waits for you to take away from you all your offenses and grieves to present the best memoirs to present a silvery ball from a chest of the tranquility...