Under the weight of the mornin… (Alexander Razgadai )

Under the weight of the morning creaks the floorboards, linen curtains, those can’t sleep either – the spring dance the Foxtrot. “Boil-off!”- everyone brags kettle, pot-bellied figure in the kitchen chief, but the water he pours. The trip on the sea is sad until July, and the sun is on the edge of the tulle, forgetting about the hot Affairs. Admiring in the mirror the bedroom painting, not painted by van Gogh, but the main reason brunette in satin silks. In an empty dissatisfaction with the swinging chandelier – let the wind broke her feelings really ran away for good? Cushion spy slides off the sofa, alarm clock ringing about it so eagerly.. and I Only immobilized him.