And when spring comes to Paris ...

And when spring comes to Paris, even the most miserable of its inhabitants should feel that he lives in paradise.
\ Henry Miller \

The Paris weathercock is tuned to SPRING!


A rainy evening ... I'm in Paris!
The coffee grounds smell of the city ...
Here the vault of heaven is noticeably lower,
And the tower of the Eiffel is broken.

The ancient bridge is the shelter of the clochard:
A pack of wine, a gray mane
And a bright scarf ... Brunch guitar:
"Lover old and beautiful ..." *

The finest scent of passion
The lace of the cathedral is being made:
The blood of kings and the thirst for power,
And a drop of March nonsense ...

Tight water rolls Sen ...
The landscape is smeared with Renoir ...
Paris, your spring is priceless!
And the rain rustles along the sidewalks ...

* "Lover old and beautiful ..." (c) I. Brodsky

Kornetova Irina




A small photo about the spring Paris.
And a little because after all and the spring has only just begun. ))
In fact, to be absolutely accurate, the spring in Paris has not yet come.
The French spring begins on the day of the vernal equinox - March 20.
In theory, this is probably correct, but in the case of the Russian calendar in the spring, I like it more.))

Gurbuz Dogan Eksioglu \ charades are not for fun, but for philosophizing sake.

And let's talk for life!
In my opinion, illustrations of the Turkish artist Gurbuz Dogan Eksioglu to this very much even have.

Apparently it's a cup of coffee and a cup of milk.
But!
I want another interpretation.
Let it be the cups woven. And let such cups be in every house. In any case, I wish you this. And not for the sake of that, as in that saying, "you will drink from my cup, you will know my thoughts," but simply for a common and whole. And thoughts and eyes can be read. ))
And then you do not have to wonder: the glass is half empty or half full.
There will be balance!





And two interlaced glomeruli will not mean bondage and lack of freedom, they will mean overflowing into each other and warmth.
Each of us has our own world and not all of them are allowed into it.
But! Suddenly it turns out that there are people whose world is close to us.
We communicate, admire, marvel at coincidences and do not notice how we entangle each other with our own threads. And now they have intertwined and do not tear themselves away.
And why try?




Perhaps then the clock will not take seconds so quickly, and the book of life will not turn pages so fast. ))
And you should, after all, quite a bit - appreciate every second and every page with ecstasy!

by Josef Kote art for sale

And God created a woman ...

Once God asked a man
Create him the object of his love.
God responded by finding out the reasons.
And he created a woman of flesh and blood.

A little light of the moon has added
And lit up the sunshine with a sunshine.
In temper, he added meekness to the dove,
Slender stature in the camp embodied.

The creator was so carried away by the creation,
What gave that woman a tear.
He poured into it a lightning instant
And the ease of fluff he mixed with a thunderstorm.

He filled his voice with a nightingale,
The magpie gave the magpies.
And as a result of passionate creation
The Most High created for man.

God breathed life into a beautiful creature,
The requester gave his order.
"Take it and suffer," - he said goodbye.
"Love and take care as a voice of God."

Since then, the man is a captive and a keeper
A beautiful mixture given to him.
He is a husband, lover, critic and connoisseur.
And all the questions - to God himself ...

Alena Nikolaeva






God created a Woman from roses,
From hyacinths and jasmine ...
From the bright glow of the stars,
From a diamond and a ruby.

From summer sunlight,
From lacy winter patterns ...
Of sinful fiery nights
And the virgin blue dawns.

God created the Woman in love,
Lepil with enthusiasm, with pleasure ...
Love flows in her blood,
The soul has the inspiration ...

Dullness of the May Evenings
Autumn mystery leaf fall ...
God created a Woman from dreams,
In which will and delight.









The day, a little older, was more like an evening,
The sky is azure vaults with cloud armadas
Dexterously wrapped up for some reason - probably so it is easier
Heat to cool, which in the morning was piercingly burning ...

The sun froze, dropping the last glare,
In the luxuriant gardens fringed raz ...
The world remained broken, strangely faceless ...
The keys were not picked up yet ...

He wandered aimlessly, hiding his confusion in his glance,
Incompleteness of the elements is felt in oneself ...
The sky looked at it and, with tears of mourning,
Strings of winds refracted in a warm plea.

On the horizon, the lights were blazing,
A miracle looked for itself on the chilled Earth,
Before the storm all the birds flew very low,
Time was burned on coals, in a cooled ash

A tape of tracks leaving - he walked alone,
A strange, tired, terrified wolf-man,
Somewhere under the sky a bit alien and high
He tried in vain to find himself, apparently, a night's lodging.

And finding nothing, lay down near the edge,
Right at the edge of the living, icy water,
Somewhere on the eve of a sleepy-pinching paradise,
Near an accidentally warm star.

The night covered his eyes with the palm of his hand, as if
I was very much afraid that he could see everything:
As from a rib it is imperceptible, bloodless
The mystery was born, to be pulsating next.

God created this before an unknown miracle,
By filling the limits of a silent emptiness,
Knowing that the world will never be the same again,
But it will acquire the impeccability of a fine line ...

And the person saw a dream ... and in the shower for some reason
Tender tenderness, like lava from the depths
Suddenly I climbed to the surface ... there was someone with him ...
A woman ... then he is no longer alone in the world!

Victor Zelik and his contribution to the fate of contemporary art

This artist himself calls Slavic, but not defining the nationality, but according to the fact of birth and residence in the Ukrainian city of Slavyansk. Today Victor Zelik is proudly honored with the title of recognized master of easel watercolor painting.

The artist graduated from the Kharkov Academy of Design and Arts. And while studying, and throughout the creative path for him, the study of the works of Mikhail Vrubel and Valentin Serov became fundamental in the formation of artistic culture. No less influence on Viktor Zelik was provided by other artists of the expansive association of the end of the XIX century, called "The World of Art". In unison the main idea of ​​this association, the work of Viktor Zelik himself became a way of expressing the personality of the artist.

by Vladimir Kush

All of them are well recognizable, they are united by a common theme. A street musician playing the violin, a girl hurrying to the beach, a Jew reading the Talmud, a lonely man under an umbrella. Actually, lonely on the canvases of Victor Zelik are even ships, cats and cars. And the psychological center is always not a person, and not an object, but the city landscape itself.

The artist's fame has long since left his native country. His works are kept not only in the collections of Slavic, Kharkov, Donetsk and Kramatorsk museums, but also occupy a worthy and honorable place in private European and American collections. Some of them became a true poetic inspiration. The painting, which is called "Walk", provoked the poet to write poetry, and "Saxophonist" made the writer write a story. If one creativity generates another, then the world of modern art has no reason to worry about its fate.