First snow.
For you, it's really the first. Huge wet flakes fall from the night sky - fabulous, just like on New Year Eve. In an instant Kiev turns white.
We walk along the evening Khreshchatyk. Where to? I do not know. Who cares? Young people run past with laughter. Why are they hiding in passages, under roofs?
And we are feeling good! Along the deserted paths over the Dnieper, in an unusual silence, we descend onto a snow-covered bridge. Night. Dnieper. The chain of our footprints and our quiet laughter. And then (after all, this is an evening from a fairy tale), in the distance, a measured clacking arises, and a huge white horse and a silent rider emerge from the swirling shroud, illuminated by the lights of lonely lanterns.
I cling to you in fear, the ghost silently floats by, and your words reach me:
- Are you afraid? When you are with me, no need to be afraid.
And there is again the silence.
Only snow is spinning.
And we are spinning too - in the park near Ivan Franko Theater. We frolic like children, not noticing how the world around us lives. And its people, like shadows, and their words, obviously addressed to us, reach our ears and are carried away, without penetrating into the magical world of our dreams in reality.
This night is for us. And the transformed city. And the square covered with snow, long after we left, keeping the prints of our mixed traces, the fancy flowers drawn by you and the hearts pierced by arrows, the infinite number of a word Love, our similar affectionate names written by me... Flight. Disappeared time. My dream about a spaceship. Is everything repeating for the second time?