It was the first morning of freedom. Finally he became free from all what weighed him upon just like weights on the roots. He no longer had to anybody and anything. No obligations, no promises, no debt, no framework or shackles. Only uncertainty and freedom ahead of him – all intoxicating many of opportunities and ways. And everything now depends only on him. God offered free will. It was the first morning of happiness in his life. And not the last – he knew it...
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He always dreamed of. All of his life he could remember. Trees around just waited until he went older – they knew: there is nothing worse for a dream than the ordinary and cynicism of life. So they waited him to become like they are: sad, with broken branches and bark with flayed, quiet in the rain and tired under the sun. Time went by and he went older, lost his branches and pieces of bark (one of his branches people decided too strong and particularly annoying they just sawed off – it was very painful, but not deadly). But he still never stopped dreaming. No matter what the difficulties and bitterness happened, at any weather and in any day, his crown still full of dream, with little smile and look that rested somewhere far away and it always annoying them, the...
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She wasn’t such a young – not yesterday seedling that’s for sure. But it wasn’t the cause of less happiness. Perhaps contrary: she didn’t want to waste her time on trifles; she wanted to link her life in marriage with the real and understanding her ent. Everyone around annoyed her for several years with “Get married until it’s not too late! Unless you become old and lonely bird cherry tree!” But she believed that somewhere he exist – the one. As Omar Khayyam her favorite poet said “And better be alone, than with whoever”. And one day she met him, her soul mate. And now she’s in the wedding dress, and she’s happy, and will be happy to continue because she marries the one who...
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Her sad was deep and irreparable. Even the bright sun and warm summer couldn’t dispel it. It was no sorrow because a lot of water has since claimed the River of Time, but the sadness remained and nothing could heal it. Now she wanted the only thing: stand still on the shore and indulge in pleasant memories with a quiet half-smile. About her happiness sometime in the past, about happiness of all her close trees, about the feeling of everything possible and the freedom that feeling gave, about joy and confidence filled up their...
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Unlike its neighbor Lebanon Sycamore was a native of Crimea. And he was very proud of it. As well as his acquaintance with one of the people legends of the peninsula – world wide famous guitar virtuoso Enver Izmaylov. Of course Enver’s guitars weren’t made of sycamores (thanks God!). It’s just that Izmaylov very loved coming to the park especially to Sycamore, to pat on his trunk and his leaves, to tell him the news, to listen to the rustle of his news. And then Sycamore with proud translated Enver’s stories to the plants around and enjoyed with attention of trees, bushes and even grass between his roots. He felt himself a real king of the...
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