Blue in colour

I saw that! - Karma.

[norske13]

Boom! Check out CUJO at ProductHunt. CUJO is a cool device to fight home hacking. #producthunt #IoT #sensation http://thndr.me/y6lA1E

[embody-love-emanate-light]

[norske13]

He

When you are full of doubt + it all seems impossible that there's still someone who believes in you. Me.

[norske13]

-But what else we can do with such cutie

-Yeh. I like to play at a hunny bunny, a little rat or a harsh little tiger with my cat.

-My Lord! Really!?

-Yeh… and I’m afraid that she will gnaw my throat one night. That’s why I give her a good food all the time. 

[norske13]

Only tiny chink of light

A chink of light reached out from a high ceiling of a cave. We were a bunch of friends, five human beings found ourselves here grace a strange chain of facts and circumstances. And this was our last match. Few stones slid from under our boots and fell with a loud crash. The rock walls were wet. We were ready to accept the inevitable. It was a blind alley. Drops on the faces. Ice in the hearts. And only tiny chink of light as a desperate hope for salvation. 

[norske13]

Not really sure how to feel about it Something in the way you move Makes me feel like I can't live without you It takes me all the way I want you to stay

[norske13]

"Kings And Queens"

Into the night

Desperate and broken The sound of a fight Father has spoken. We were the kings and queens of promise We were the victims of ourselves Maybe the children of a lesser God Between Heaven and Hell, Heaven and Hell. Into your eyes Hopeless and taken We stole our new lives Through blood and name In defense of our dreams In defense of our dreams We were the kings and queens of promise We were the victims of ourselves Maybe the children of a lesser God Between Heaven and Hell, Heaven and Hell. The age of man is over A darkness comes at dawn These lessons that we've learned here Have only just begun We were the kings and queens of promise We were the victims of ourselves Maybe the children of a lesser God Between Heaven and Hell. We are the kings We are the queens We are the kings We are the queens

[norske13]

Beth Hart - My California en live dans les Nocturnes RTL

Beth Hart - My California en live dans les Nocturnes RTL

I wanna say I love you but I'm a million miles away And I am thinking of you I miss you and LA

[norske13]

And stars below us...

My brain has been attuned on the waves of your dreams bathing in the long white shirts. You need to touch my tenderest string of absence-near-you and make the heaven redden.

A verdict: uneasily in dream's embrace.

Result: a night pays off the argent of reflection.

[norske13]

long long trip

This was the last step. Now she can sit down and take a rest, going her breath back for four hours. At home she opened a buttle of wine, swallowing slowly, savouring every sip. Of course, the alcohol is a questionable pleasure, but she deserved it. Now she can indulge herself by this little dose of poison.

Every sip took away all that had happened the day before. Everything seemed less real: the kids' happy laugh behind a board fence, a sly wink of the traffic lights, people with crushed hands, a boundless field with the dead wind and burnt forest...

This ended when she turned on a key and pulled a door. Because she didn't want to dissolve in the fog of doings that never happened.  

[norske13]

А forest of the Gone Memories

She woke up in a forest among twisted branches of high spruces. It’s strange, but all of them are standing so close to each other and no one is lop-sided or rotted.

What is the time of a day now? Early morning? Late evening? It doesn’t matter. This forest has never felt the sunrays on its crowns or heard a child's laugh.

She hardly stand up. Dozens of branches were sticking into her face. Few streamlets of blood were flowing down from her forehead. Hands were scratched. She has listened to. It was a kind of Scandinavian dialect. Hard to understand. Pity, she hasn't learnt Norwegian at school. But wait a minute! The ghosts of chords lost in a forest of the Gone Memories were talking to her. The dead trees were dancing a tango of the forgotten melodies with her. “Where have you been all this time?” she has heard from the darkness. But it seems an answer had outstripped the question, and she panted for breath uselessly and she woke up. 

[norske13]

a phantom

It’s autumn again. Suddenly I’ve been thrown off my stride by the thoughts of my childhood vacation. My head has overfilled by the pictures, flavours, memories of those stunning days on the edge of a land, a sea, and a season.

It was the year then fishing was absolutely failed. In addition, two sailors almost went to meet their maker, they had swallowed the sea water and the foam and run afoul of own fishing nets on a reef. The pilot Mikolas, our neighbour, was accused of the misfortune. He was unable to calculate per tide because he had drunk and felt into sleep just at the stern. After that the old ladies were looking at him with a scowl, and throwing the bubble stones forward him. But Mikolas was imperturbable till the day when he left our village forever and set off to his parents to Panevezys.

It was a bad year. But for us that summer was perfect indeed. And life was beautiful too. We spent all time on the sea side looking closely at the newcomers. There were so many strange people on the beach. I’ve remembered a man stepped on the dead crab. He was indignant with that rubbing for a while his feet together. Also I’ve recollected a pretty guy and his ankles peeped out a beach box. At the time I didn’t know that this guy could run the risk, because my cousin doesn’t like anybody who would even hypothetically hang around me. I had to be accompanied only with him and/or few our rare friends.

It was the time when the weather was fine even if the heaven was cloudy and the sea gulls couldn’t promise us a good mood. And the worst thing that could happened to me was the sable, the plumes of gaped birds, and the scraps of late summer clouds getting stick between the pages of my beach magazine.

I miss those days. It was a good time. 

[norske13]

secret

Stepping carefully along stones I fear only one thing that the ground crumbles under my feet. My hart get into tremor every next step. Be quite! They can hear us. They can see us from the other side of a rock and from the air. So, be quite! We cover our voices into rolls of the sleeping bags and the thermoses. We bury our thoughts during the short stops. Children will find here bases of bottle with mummies of bags and butterflies under the glass.

We were too careless before we’ve stepped on this path. We are too long on this path to be careless.

Invisible sings of gazes, dumb dotted lines of light letters. We are too long on this path. The sound of a falling stone, taking away our waits and boots, is like the end.

One more efforts – and you are on the top. You hide scratched hands, cover dusty shoes by you shirt. Finally you are here. 

[norske13]

my castle

I'm at work mostly. My spare time I usually spent at home, or on my way to home. Rarely I set my feet on foreign land where I have to pay customs and claim a visa. I don't like public toilets, I try to avoid hold or lean against hand-rails. My home is my castle? Perhaps it isn't a castle, but a few loopholes it has. Also it demand some strict rules. It is a territory where isn't allowed to split upon the floor and to pick out a finger-nail mud, to fig around the flat and to open a refrigerator without having writing securing approval of an owner. May be the rules are rough, but in the same time they are very simple and fair.

[norske13]

human being

This amising scribble, a senseless stream of words, flowery mere verbiage can't discribe the strange situation in her life. She heards the music in her soul and she doesn't need any words. Listening to the music she pays no heed to the ones mutter. Because this beautiful music makes her glance over the old photos along. 

[horechek]

[norske13]

for my efficiency to earn the money

for my efficiency to spend the money

for my resonableness (bus stop)