
Cherry Carry
@cherrycarry
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875 Followers
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The sea at sunset is a magic that cannot be described in words, but can be felt. The sun, slowly sinking to the horizon, turns the sky into a canvas painted with fiery colors. Shades of gold, scarlet and purple mix to create an endless palette that is reflected in the water like a mirror.
The waves, tenderly touching the shore, seem to whisper something ancient, eternal. They pick up the sun's glare and carry them to the sandy edge, where every pebble, every shell for a moment become part of this splendor. The air is filled with warmth and light brackish freshness, and the wind, like an artist, completes the final touches, dispersing the clouds and allowing the sunset to unfold in all its glory. 4 replies
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The morning started as usual: breakfast and getting ready for training. But today my cat decided to make a change. As soon as I put my backpack on the couch, he came over, laid down on top of it, and stared at me with his blue eyes, as if to say, "No, you're staying home today. I had to gently move him aside, but the look he gave me was full of reproach.
When I got back from practice, I noticed that Tim wasn't on the couch where he'd been. Turns out he'd made himself comfortable in the bathroom, next to my sneakers, which smelled of sweat and the freshness of the street. "Offended?" - I asked, holding out my hand, but he only snorted and closed his eyes defiantly. Apparently, I'd messed up his morning nap today, and now I'd have to earn his forgiveness. Perhaps an extra treat and an evening game will help us reconcile. But for now, Tim is lying by my sneakers, reminding me that his love is not only purring and caressing, but also the fine art of feline resentment. 11 replies
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Autumn
The air is filled with coolness and silence. The silhouettes of ancient buildings can be seen in the distance. Once they stood proudly above the neighborhood, testifying to the power of man. Now they stand forgotten, like ghosts of the past. Their walls are covered with graffiti, a modern language that tries to breathe new life into them, but only emphasizes their loneliness
The roofs are overgrown with grass and trees. Nature, like an invisible artist, inexorably takes its course. Tree roots break through cracks in the stone, branches reach for the sky, as if trying to erase the boundary between the creation of man and the creation of the earth
Man is gone, leaving behind a memory in stone. But nature knows no defeat. She's not in a hurry. She just is. And with each day, each year, she takes back what was once taken from her
Autumn
Leaves fall, covering the ground with a golden carpet. Abandoned buildings stand silently watching this eternal cycle. They no longer belong to man. They belong to life 8 replies
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The air, full of the scent of pine needles and the salty breath of the waves, seems to penetrate to the heart. Tall pine trees stand like silent guards. Their branches, swaying slightly, whisper something in the language of the wind, mingling with the distant sound of the surf.
The path leads to a cliff, where the forest parted to reveal the vast sea. It's gray today, with white scallops of waves, but it's no less majestic. The winter chill makes the air crystal clear, and every breath feels like it's filling you with power.
To walk here is to feel a part of something bigger. The silence of the forest and the eternal murmur of the sea are soothing, and the frosty air is invigorating.
Returning back, you feel warm inside, despite the cold around you. This warmth comes from the beauty, from the silence, from the realization that such moments are a real gift. 6 replies
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We walked along the sea, as always. It was winter calm, as if holding its breath. Did you know that sand whistles under our feet?
In the distance, we noticed something unusual that we hadn't seen before. It was an old staircase leading to nowhere. It seemed to be part of the landscape itself, as if nature had created it. Who had built it and why?
Next to the stairs, I noticed a supply of clay. It lay in neat layers, as if someone had prepared it for some mysterious ritual.
We sat down on the sand near the stairs, looking at the horizon, where the sea met the sky. At that moment I realized that this miracle of nature was not just an accident. The stairs leading to nowhere and the supply of clay are symbols. Symbols that there is always a path in life, even if it seems meaningless, and that there is always material for creativity, even if you don't know what you will create. 16 replies
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Just yesterday we were walking around in fall clothes and we were hot. And today, outside the window. the city is covered in a blanket of white.
I love a real snowy winter. It's a time when you can wrap yourself in a warm blanket, take a mug of hot cocoa and watch snowflakes dancing outside the window. And winter is also a time of miracles, when even the most ordinary things become magical. For example, a snow drift can turn into a fortress, and an ice slide into a portal to another reality
And so, walking through a snow-covered park, I feel the magic of winter penetrating my heart. The snow creaks under my feet, as if whispering the secrets of the universe, and somewhere in the distance I can hear the laughter of children. And I realize that a real snowy winter is not just a season. It is a state of mind where magic, technology and nature come together to create something truly beautiful 12 replies
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