GlancePic

From the outside, it may seem that I'm idling, but in fact, I'm busy with my hands full — I'm living.

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Lingonberry - Vladislav Kosse

Photography, Food Photography

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August is wonderful, beautiful and rich in different sounds and smells of the forest, when it seems as if even the wind quietly rustles the leaves of the last summer month…

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Each book is a door to a new reality where we can become part of incredible stories, forgetting about the daily hustle and problems. Reading is like magic: the words and thoughts of the author come to life in our imagination, capturing and captivating.

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It's easy to fall into the arms of warm feelings when you see a bright bouquet of fresh tulips...

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The summer evening was thick with fog, gently touching the roof of the old village church. The sun was sinking below the horizon, turning the sky a rosy golden hue. There was a light breath of freshness in the air, mixed with the scent of flowers and moist earth.

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The sun has set. The last ray of it is still playing on the roofs, on the treetops, and the evening shadow is already falling below. The village is falling asleep. The lights are dimly flickering in the huts. The smell of heated earth and withering grass wafts from the gardens. Everything is quiet. Only occasionally will a belated corncrake sing, and somewhere in the distance the crane of a well will plaintively creak.

Ivan Bunin "Evening".

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In it, the tenderness of velvet and the sun's rays play, He proudly bows his head to heaven. Exquisite bud, simple and majestic, He proclaims the beauty of spring to the world.

May the age of its flowering be fleeting, But he will leave an imperishable mark in the heart. Tulip, you are a symbol of joy and light, A spring gift that summer generously gives.

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Sometimes it feels like reality is playing tricks on me. It's like someone invisible is setting clever traps right in front of my eyes, and I'm carelessly walking towards the unknown, not even suspecting the trick. Every new day brings new meetings, events, emotions… But does all this really exist?

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The garden whispered its stories in the language of wind and leaves. The moonlight seeping through the crowns of the ancient trees turned every petal into a gemstone. The scent of night violets and moist earth intertwined into an intoxicating elixir that allowed you to forget about worries and lose yourself in the serene beauty of this place. Here, among the intertwined vines and mossy stones, one could feel like a part of something bigger, something eternal and incomprehensibly beautiful…

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The beauty lies in simplicity

Sometimes, in this rush, in the endless race for something big and important, I completely forget to look up. I forget to just stop and look around. And then the world seems gray, monotonous, oppressive.…

But once you slow down a little, let go of your thoughts, and suddenly… it's probably corny, but beauty is really everywhere. She just speaks in a low voice, in a language that needs to be learned to read.

It seems to me that the secret is not to expect something special, grandiose. Beauty is in the little things. In the dew drops on the grass, in the smile of a stranger, in the aroma of fresh bread. The way the wind whispers through the leaves of the trees.

You just have to be careful. Learn to see. Feel. And then the world will open up from a new perspective, it will sparkle with bright colors. After all, beauty is not something to look for. She's already here. I always have been. Just waiting for us to notice her. Just waiting for us to learn how to read it.…

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Моменты ускользающей красоты

Иногда кажется, что солнце уходит туда, откуда придёт снова. За горизонтом, скрытым от наших глаз, продолжается своя жизнь. Там, куда опусти

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Just daisies

Daisies… Just daisies. No exotic, no pretentiousness. But now they're standing here, and somehow my soul feels lighter. It's funny how these simple flowers manage to evoke so many different feelings.

It's probably because of their quiet modesty. In a world where everything screams about itself, trying to stand out, daisies just stand there and quietly delight the eye. They do not require special care, they do not claim the laurels of the queen of flowers. They just eat and give you a good mood.

And yet, it seems to me, there is something very Russian about them. Fields, meadows, summer, grandma's village. The smell of freshly cut grass and chamomile tea. It's such a connection with the roots, with something dear and close to the heart. Putting daisies in a vase is like bringing a piece of this world into your home, into your life.

Or maybe it's their symbolism? Chamomile is a symbol of the sun, warmth, kindness. This is purity, innocence, and hope. When everything is gray and dreary, daisies remind you that there is light somewhere, there is summer, there is something good.

Or maybe it's much simpler. They're just beautiful. This uncomplicated beauty, this simplicity of lines and shapes. They look nice on the table, on the windowsill, in any corner of the house. They enliven the space and add comfort.

I really don't know. Maybe all these reasons are combined, or maybe there's something else that I can't explain. But I know one thing for sure: as long as there are daisies in my house, there seems to be more light, warmth and hope in it. And that's enough to love them and put them in a vase over and over again. They are like a small reminder that happiness can be found in the simplest things.

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There was absolute calm around. Not a breeze, not a rustle, not a sound. Only occasionally could the distant cry of a bird be heard, breaking this fragile silence. It seemed that nature itself was lost in thought, listening to its own rhythm and the passage of time.Such a day encourages reflection, makes you stop and feel the moment. Time seems to freeze, plunging into a state of light melancholic harmony with the surrounding world.