By Lidiya Filipova
SCENE OF ACTION: Psychiatric Ward (Sanitarium)
DOCTOR VERNAN aged about 45
TERRY aged 24
SAM about 65
ZEVA old woman whose age cannot be identified
ANTHONY about 30, artist
ERNAN about 35
Sam. Sitting thoughtfully in a rocking chair in the middle of an empty white room. He is dressed in a dark suit, a hat hiding his face. He speaks to himself as if telling a story to somebody else.
SAM: “It’s more than 9 years since I’ve been here. THEY’VE PASSED! More than 15 since I started losing my sight. Now I’m blind. A wreck at the edges of my consciousness. All edges are memories. I’m in the center. I know I’m dreaming. What I can “see” around me is my longest dream, the last dream in my life….Otherwise I’m blind. I’m dreaming. I’m at Doctor Vernan’s Mental Hospital. I have dreams day and night. The huge space, the yard of the clinic, has it’s own church. Strange, when I was a little boy, I saw the same church during one of the few visits to my aunt and my cousins, I don’t remember the name of the town. The priest, he’s the only one that is different – he’s always the same in my dream – in a white cassock… My dream is continued. Strange people have gathered in the church – the same people with whom I get together to have dinner with candles and the evening grace has become a constant part of the whole ritual – the fun, the conversations, oh, the conversations, especially when everybody is talking about himself but knows that all are listening. Sometimes war pictures come to my dream, everything is possible in dreams. God, there is something else… Why don’t my wife and children come to me, why do they start running, however, they stumble over something, and then…they plunge into flames… now I’m on the plane, I have a mission, it’s important, I must drop a bomb, I pull the lever, and… no, I didn’t want it!… I’m in the church again, the Father in the white cassock speaks to me something and embraces me over the shoulders. We stand in front of a statue. I stare at it but I can see only my wife’s eyes, her last reproaching and pleading look, I realize I’m shouting, I look around, the statue is a statue again. The father lets me go. I can see only the white of his eyes, when he starts praying…”
He gets up slowly from the chair and resting on a white walking stick, makes for the door. He goes out. The chair slowly stops rocking.
A lane. In the distance Anthony comes with an easel and a sketch – book He has been to the church. He quietly hums a song. Stops, places the easel facing the church puts white gloves on, gets ready to draw with a pen and Indian ink. At that moment Zeva appears from behind the tree, spruce, well groomed old woman, with her favorite cat Amanda.
ZEVA: “Come on, darling, it’s time to eat. I’ve prepared your favorite fish. (She walks backwards to the easel and accidentally knocks it down). Awfully sorry, young man, I hope I haven’t damaged your picture … As a matter of fact, we don’t know each other… Are you a newcomer?”
ANTHONY: “I arrived yesterday and I didn’t go out of my room till this morning, madam…?”
ZEVA: “Zeva, nice to meet you, call me Zeva.”
ANTHONY: “I’m Anthony. I like making portraits. Would you let me draw yours … my mother’s name’s the same as yours… She was very much fond of animals.”
ZEVA: “Where is she now?”
ANTHONY: “She went away. One day she simply disappeared … I found her room empty. She didn’t take many things with herself. Only the most valuable – her favorite music box… She always listened to it, especially when I had to draw her portrait or when she was sad, she also took the ring I’d given her for her last birthday, some family photos and the letters from my father who, alas, who was killed at the front…. He was a brave man. Even in his death he didn’t turn his back, he didn’t run away…. But I didn’t love him very much…. I remember when I was a child I was jealous of my mum when he held her by the hand and whispered tenderly in her ear when he kissed her… I remember once I couldn’t stand it and tried to stick a fork into his hand and then she didn’t talk to me three whole days. It seems that I’ve loosened my tongue too much. Forgive me for boring you. Anyway, will you pose for me, please?”
ZEVA: “With great pleasure, nobody has drawn my portrait so far but first I must feed my babies. Please, meet Amanda, my favorite cat…. I’ve got ten more wonderful creatures like that, I coddle them too much but this is out of love. I’m afraid that they might catch a cold, the weather hasn’t got warmer yet… My memory has recently failed me and I’ve stopped calling them by their names, that’s why I call them A, B, C, D… I’ve painted the letter on their backs…. But this one here is Amanda. Isn’t that right, dear, (she cuddles the cat in her lap, gently stroking her)…. You know how much I love you, that’s why I named you after my daughter, she’s got a birthday in two days.”
ANTHONY: “Who, the cat?”
ZEVA: “Oh, no, my daughter. But she married a travelling circus actor and now she’s on a tour with him somewhere out of the country, I have the cats left – memories of her… I need to care for somebody, I can’t live alone…but she doesn’t want to stay at home, as if the world outside is more interesting… And what about you? Did you love your mother? Did you love her a lot?”
ANTHONY: “Please, don’t ask me about that because my heart is like the empty room she left, going away. I haven’t loved another woman so far.” While speaking, he starts drawing Zeva in white gloves, being careful not to get dirty. He keeps on speaking.
ANTHONY: “She was a remarkable woman. There was something aristocratic and sophisticated about her, something that inspired me with respect and… tenderness at the same time, love and hatred. Yes, I detested her because I knew… actually, it was too late when I became aware of the fact that I CANNOT have her but I desperately longed for her body and soul. She sat on a pedestal like a certain deity that holds you captive and I’m there, below, at her feet, I had the right only to gaze at her and, as I’ve already mentioned, I loved drawing her… Mum, in a bed of silk covers – drinking her morning tea, Mum -walking in the park among the flowers she had planted herself… Mum. She had beautiful eyes just like her orchids. You see, I lied about her name, it was Elizabeth…but there is something about you that reminds me of her.”
ZEVA: “You speak about her as if she was dead.”
ANTHONY: “No, I speak in this way about her because to me she is out of what we call reality. I saw her as an angel and demon, soul and body, and I was an ordinary mortal whose body’s tortured by yearning eyes. (Looks up with wistful.) I start to like it here, it’s cozy, you generate coziness…”
He’s finished with the drawing, shows it to Zeva.
ANTHONY: “Look the likeness is amazing.”
ZEVA: “But… it’s not me, it looks like your mother, the way I imagine her.”
ANTHONY: “You mean that…”
ZEVA: “You are still in love with her and you see her face on all women, but I’m not cross that you didn’t draw me … I can understand your pain… Come on, Amanda, we are very late for lunch. I’ll meet you at dinner, Anthony. See you soon.”
She takes the cats in her hands and makes for the building along the lane.
Anthony remains alone in front of her portrait and starts crying just like a child.
Doctor Vernan’s consulting room. He’s reading a newspaper and smoking a cigar. Somebody knocks on the door. A nurse informs the doctor about a visitor.
VERNAN: “Come in, don’t be shy.”
Terry stealthily sticks his head out of the door. He makes a step forward, looking scared.
VERNAN: “Please, you are welcome.”
Terry hesitates. He makes a step forwards, then a step backwards (several times). Doctor Vernan stands up from his chair, goes to Terry, and slightly takes him by the hand to a broad and soft armchair. Terry sits down, uneasy. Vernan asks him in a calm tone about his name.
TERRY: “Terry, Terry Pratchett.”
VERNAN: “There is such a writer, are you a relative of his?”
TERRY: “No, Sir, I don’t know the one.”
VERNAN: “How old are you, Terry?”
TERRY: “ I can’t remember, Suhr. I might be in my twenties.”
VERNAN: “Terry, What can you do?”
TERRY: “I can sing, Suhr.”
VERNAN: “What else, Terry?”
TERRY: “Nothing, Doctor Vernan, I used to clean the lavatories at the station, but they gave me the sack, c-c-cause they say I did bad things…”
VERNAN: “What kind of bad things did you do, my boy?”
TERRY: “I didn’t do anything wrong, Suhr, but in their opinion… u-u-uh… I used to be soiling instead of cleaning… with… well, you understand, don’t you, I must admit, I soiled but to me this is NOT bad. It isn’t bad is it, Suhr? It isn’t bad writing on the walls… when you are in love, the name of the girl you are in …well, in love …S-s-susy (crying). I love her, and she, she… scoffs at me – she called me im… imbecile… and that she couldn’t fancy being with a guy like me…” (crying).
At that time Doctor Vernan gives Terry a glass of water and some pill.
VERNAN: “Have this, Terry, you’ll feel better. We’ve prepared a room for you. You need some sleep. I’ll come and see you tomorrow. We’ll have a word about many things.”
Terry, sobbing, drinks it at one gulp, burps and stands up from the chair. The nurse enters and takes him out of the consulting room.
Doctor Vernan sits on his chair and starts writing something. There is a magnified photo of beautiful young woman put in a glass frame on his desk. He’s looking at her.
VERNAN: “My dear, Emily, my dear Emily, what can save our marriage, our love…” (There is a knock on the door).
He stands up from the chair, makes for the door, then comes back, crumples the sheet of paper, goes to the door again, opens it and looks at his watch.
“Time for lunch. That’s strange. Who could be knocking? I can’t see anybody.”
He goes out.
Exterior. Midnight. The bell tolls anxiously. In the upper part of the church, the belfry, a soft light is on, a man’s silhouette shows up against it. Thunders can be heard. Suddenly it starts raining. The bell stops tolling but only for a moment, then again it peals out in the night stronger than the rain. The silhouette can be seen falling on his knees, he lets the rope of the bell go, raises his hands, and starts praying. The rain has stopped. Fragmentary sobbing can be heard, part of a prayer. Shadow. The man has got downstairs, a street lantern lights his face, and it’s calm. Another silhouette appears a cigarette light in his hand. He offers one to the fist man who is startled.
“Would you like a cigarette?”
“Yes, thank you, but who are you? I haven’t met you before.”
“I love rainy nights, especially when the moon is full but covered by clouds, so pale and transparent. I like smoking at this time of the day. I usually hide under a tree and listen to the soft murmur of the leaves, it’s like a melody, it reminds me of a nursery rhyme, my mother often sang to me before I fell asleep… Now I can’t sleep because she is not here any more. That’s why I listen to the rain. My name is Anthony. What about yours?”
ERNAN: ”Mine is not. U-u-uh, glad to meet you, Ernan.”
ANTHONY: “Would you like to have a walk in the park? I heard the bell and it seems to me very strange that it tolls at this time of the day… isn’t it that… you…?
ERNAN: “The end of the world starts with thunders and rain… I’m afraid and I’d like to warn the others. I dedicated my whole life to calculating the exact date of the end, but it never comes, I must be wrong somewhere. Apparently only He knows. However, all signs are present. God will soon erase the sinners from the Earth. And do you know why He sends us rain? – rain is holy, it washes all dirt away from the Earth but it’s not enough because pools and mud remain. Then comes the Fire and let his power drain pools and mud, seas and oceans when God gives him his last sign… Words, oh, I’m at a loss for words, they stray somewhere in my head, don’t give me a moment of peace, get tangled into an endless knot and then unravel momentarily, overflow, burn me (He holds his head with his hands) … I can hear angels’ trumpets in my ears … ‘Then I looked and I heard the voice of many angels round the throne and of the living Creatures and of the Presbyters, numbering myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands…" (He pants.) “Then the angel took the censer, filled it with fire from the altar and poured it on the Earth; there followed peals of thunder, loud blasts, flashes of lightning and an earthquake.
And the seven angels with the seven trumpets prepared to blow their blasts…”
While he’s speaking it begins to rain harder and thunders drown his last words:
“God, save our sinful souls!”
Staggering, resting on Anthony, he starts along the lane towards the building, stops, turns towards the church and, slightly reassured, smiles.
Doctor Vernan’s consulting room. A cage with a parrot is on his desk. Doctor Vernan is perched on a ladder, a palette in his hand, drawing the parrot on a large scale right on the wall. At the same time, as if turning to an invisible companion, he speaks.
VERNAN: “Look at this beautiful bird, for example. You can learn a lot from him. As, for example, this morning, when I received him in a parcel, he kept on repeating “divorce,
d-d-divorce” (he imitates the parrot) .My wife has taught him…My dear Emily, the fourth wife in my life, I haven’t loved her less than the first three… I was lucky to be loved by many women, to experience unusual love affairs, to love three women at the same time and in the end life threw me to this godforsaken place, where there are no women, where I’ve been gradually forgotten, letters stopped coming, the postman either died or something, and, there it is, after a long period of calm I receive this speaking parrot, Emily’s last word, my last wife so far… When I start thinking about marriage, I come to the conclusion that there is nothing more amusing than plural marriage or, as some more sophisticated people call it, polygamy. Some say that marriage is sacred but… can you imagine living with the same person all your life?
I prefer to be alone but free, to me love is UNIVERSAL. You can love several women and even men at once and nobody has the right to reproach you for betraying the feelings …you can’t mix up duty with feelings. I’ll repeat it again, love is universal, it is far more than being with somebody all your life… I wouldn’t like it to be cooped up like this feathered creature, which, in spite of getting warm care every day, is thousands of times more wretched than his fellows that are at liberty… To some people love is all but voluntary confinement in a tiny warm cage with golden bars.
Besides, there will be somebody who will regularly take care of you, speak to you tenderly, caress you, you’ll stay in the cage, undisturbed, protected from the world and you’ll keep repeating to yourself, oh, how wonderful it is to have somebody around who will so selflessly care for you, how moving it is to have a polished, clean, and cozy golden CAGE… Wretched people, suffering from their own insanity and narrow-mindedness…while inside me love is always alive, though I’m cooped up in this (points at the space around) white cage, to a certain extent at my own free will, I know it’s no chance, I know I must remember something HERE, something important, and then I’ll make up my mind whether to leave the cage and go back to the women or keep loving them all together from a distance…”
He turns to the parrot:
“My dear friend, I won’t draw your image in a cage, you must be free but I know that you are afraid, that you’ll die of fright if I let you go OUT but I remember who really needs you… Some day both you and me will leave our old cages, I promise, and, God, I hope our hearts won’t burst then with the smell of freedom again. Don’t you know, we are just temporarily here, here gravity is inevitable.”
He carefully climbs down the ladder and goes out.
Terry’s birthday. A large room with a piano, festive decorations, old- fashioned furniture and an old record player. The cage with the parrot is also there, somewhere behind the door. Doctor Vernan, Ernan, Anthony and Zeva have gathered round a big massive table. Doctor Vernan is dressed like a clown. He’s smoking a cigar; Zeva’s plaited her hair in eleven plaits, a cat on a leash has been tied to each plait, the initial letters of the alphabet have been painted in red on the backs of the cats. The most beautiful of them, a white Angora cat, doesn’t have anything on her back. That’s her favorite cat Amanda. Anthony sits a bit to one side, drawing something and smoking.
Ernan reads a newspaper without headlines or a name, from time to time he announces scrappy in a loud voice:
ERNAN: “Taurus should beware of kidney crisis. Cancer shouldn’t go too far with smoking. Gemini is in for love disappointment. Aeries (at this point he coughs knowingly) shouldn’t give unwanted advice to the others but spare their hearts. Pleasant surprises await Aquarius… Lio must avoid noisy parties because…”
Sam sits in his wheelchair and silently watches the others. He’s got a bandage on his eye, a pipe smokes in his hand. Soft music can be heard from the record player.
The door opens stealthily and Terry enters with a cloth and a bucket in his hands,
Shuffling his feet, he doesn’t notice the others.
VERNAN: “Terry, where are you dragging this bucket and this cloth? Have you forgotten that you’ve got a birthday today? Today is a special day to you and to all of us.
TERRY: “Are you sure I’ve got a birthday exactly today? …’cause I don’t remember when it was… Even if I had, I don’t remember when it was… Even if I had, I don’t remember ever celebrating it… A-a-a (starts speaking with a noticeable reduction). It suhm’ to me that once when I was little, I’da fun’ hat on my head is one (he feels his head as if to check whether there on at the moment, then sits on a chair and starts rocking backwards – forwards)… then, then I had lot’ cake on the fuhce but it wusn’t me who smear ‘ it and tha’why I start-t-t’ cry (makes painful grimaces)… an’ …(he sniffs), the children shout’ rund me: o-o-oh, Terry’s not merry, Terry’s not merry… I remember, yes, I do, but there ‘s nothin’ more to it…”
ZEVA: “Relax, dear, forget about it, it’s over. Nobody can ever hurt you again, come on, come, let’s dance, one, two, three, hold on to me, play a dance free (somebody plays a dance).
TERRY: “One, two, three, hol’on t’me (He repeats, laughing, stands up from the chair. Zeva holds him, they dance) … The cats, the cats wun’t I tread on their tail’?”
ZEVA: “That reminds me, Terry, that it’s time to take them to their room. Otherwise, they get too nervous, I’ll be back in a minute." (She goes out.)
While she is away, Terry dances stiffly with Doctor Vernan who teaches him waltz steps. Anthony and Ernan play at hide-and-seek. Sam presses the piano keys at random, singing in a high voice: “Come and pour with the kettle… boiling water on the fingers…”
At that time Zeva comes back holding a big ice-cream cake.
ZEVA: “I know you like ice-cream, Terry, this is for you from all of us with a lot of love. It was Sam’s idea to make it hexagonal with twenty-four candles on it."
They light the candles. Somebody says:
“Make a wish, Terry!” Terry, beaming with happiness, bulges his cheeks and blows them out. Everybody eats.
ANTHONY: “They say whatever you dream about before your birthday turns out to be true…, stuff and nonsense, and yet…Terry, what dream did you have last night?”
TERRY (his chest proudly pushed forwards) announces: “I’lwus dream I’ve told Doctor Vernan, every night – a different dream. He ask’me and he did… well, … to me… psycho… psycho …”
ANTONY: “Psychoanalysis ?”
TERRY: “Yah, th’same.”
SAM: “Terry, don’t feel obliged to tell the others what you dream, even though I also dream and this happens again and again …certain planes, have you ever been on a plane, Terry, do you know what it is to…”
ZEVA: “Sam, I know what you want to say, but I also know that Terry would be happy to tell us his dream…”
TERRY: “I only want to sit next to Doctor Vernan, this way I remember things, as he’s holding me by the hand…(He sits in the way described above)… I dreamed that I was playing with a ball. There were many childr’, it seems to me I was little, too, just like them… Suddenly an enormous s-s-snake appeared, enormous like a whale! … She opened it’s mouth … wanted to have our ball, wanted to spoil our game… I was so much afraid… All the childr’ ran away, it’s only me… who remained, crying an’ clutching the ball (gripping Doctor Vernan’s hand). If she had taken it away from me I wouldn’t be little any more, I knew, I would… become a grown up (crying)… I didn’t want to be a grown-up, I wanted to be a child, I wish I never grew up, I wish I were a child… that’s the wish I made while I was blowing the candles…”
Everybody is obviously upset. In his wheelchair Sam comes along to Terry, takes his watch off his hand.
SAM: “Terry, this is my present for you, it’s a long time since I haven’t needed it. You have every right to wish to be a child, but you are a child. No matter if all watches mercilessly measure out the time, mercilessly push it forwards, not backwards, but this is so till the moment when the time doesn’t really matter to us…because it has stopped. You can also stop it. You can break this clock and any other one, you can never " ’row up" as Pippi Long Stocking says, please believe me, and don’t let anybody take your ball from you again.”
Terry, reassured, only nods his head and hiccups once. Doctor Vernan stands up, goes to the door and takes the cage with the parrot from behind the door, then comes back and wobbling, in clown’s, slightly clumsy gestures, makes a curtsy in front of Terry.
VERNAN: “It is for you. You can teach him speak. He will love you. Take care of him, Terry.”
Anthony writes something down on a sheet from his sketch – book in large letters. He passes it to Terry.
ANTHONY: “Terry, what’s written here? Can you read it?”
TERRY: “I l-l-ove my-s-self. I love myself… is it true that I love myself?”
ANTHONY: “ If you can love yourself, you can love the others too, Terry.”
TERRY: “I love myself and all of you, too!”
Ernan sits quietly, he’s buried his face in his hands, so that nobody would see that he’s crying. The clock on the wall strikes midnight. Zeva goes up to Terry, helps him stand up and takes him out of the room.
ZEVA: “Come, dear, I’ll tell you a story, a story for a good night. Once upon a time there lived a little bear…”
Sam sits in his wheelchair on the porch. Staring at the sky, still. He’s put a bandage on one of his eyes. The sun has set, the first stars have appeared. Ernan goes out of the building and comes up to Sam. He looks at his watch.
ERNAN: “Strange, it’s not working… I’ve been watching you all day. You haven’t budged from this place. Would you like to take a walk? (Sam doesn’t respond.) Haven’t you got hungry? (Sam doesn’t respond.) Would you like a cigarette?”
SAM (quietly): “I gave up smoking.”
He stands still again as if he cares about nobody.
ERNAN: “Look at the stars – has it ever come to your mind that they have their own life just like us, that they can dance, laugh and dream too? Can you imagine what a star dreams about or what it feels when it dances? Alas, it is beyond the abilities of an ordinary man to imagine such a thing. They can’t see the dance of the stars, their eyes are too imperfect tools, their ability to see was taken away a long time ago.
Sometimes it seems to me (he looks up at the sky) that the stars are really too lonely, the distance between them is light years, that they talk to each other only in their dreams – when their light gets stronger… We are trying unconsciously to bring them closer – grouping them together in constellations, just like we, ourselves, form groups.
Here everybody is in one constellation, however it’s not light years that keep us apart but the empty spaces we fill in with words, and thoughts that hardly ever reach their destination. We rack our brains to remember how the ancient people had a conversation, but we are talking about trifle, often stupid things, sometimes we reveal a bit of our sadness, that’s been suffocating us and again we keep back the most important, then touch and finally try to unchain our hearts, painfully remembering the laws of the Universe, one by one, … the tiny and great happiness when we love each other, the basis of all living things – Love.
This is the Law. I am asking – why didn’t we understand it earlier, there, in the other world, in the other life – busy and gasping with disagreements, the life that has sent us away and we’ve found a shelter here… We are doomed to learn our lesson here, at this place that I’ve called a glass box in time, fragile like the dance of a star but invisible to strangers’ eyes…
Looking at the stars, we see the past, the light that our eyes can see has come thousands of years late, we get their message too late, yes, the same often happens when somebody passes away, it’s only then that we realize what he wanted to tell us and we are sorry… The stars only they can penetrate into our glass box, therefore in our souls, in our dreams – to change our lives, whispering only one thing – love your neighbor, love your neighbor, do not forget that law.
And here I am, feeling that I love you, I know this, I don’t see your faults, what you did in the skies, killing innocent people, to justify the absurdity of war, you were aware of nothing then, but I can see perfectly in your Soul which you have ignored. She had made efforts all the time to tell you that she had existed, that there were other laws as well and after her failure to do so you to live through the death of your nearest relatives, to see the horror in their eyes, the horror of the war, then you became aware of the existence of your Soul… Then the desire to be blind appeared – blind to anything that would bring back pain to you. You took the last sleeping pill, you chose a dream instead of true life but who can actually define it?
God, only now do I realize that the end of the world would never come to us, to us dimensions are different. And may be, if Apocalypse means Revelation, is it possible that Revelation means all that and after you’ve realized it, you are FREE TO DO TO YOURSELF. WHATEVER YOU DECIDE. Revelation is a responsibility too. I don’t know whether I personally can bear it, but I know that I have the freedom to choose. Farewell. I DON’T HAVE WISHES ANY MORE except one – when finally my Soul leaves this body, I’d like to merge with a star. That’s why when you remember me, look at the sky, watch the stars and if you happen to notice any dancing round the others, it means my desire, my last one, is fulfilled. It means God has forgiven me…”
With quick steps he makes for the church. Sam reaches his hand out to him but then helplessly drops it. He cries out when the bell starts tolling ominously. The sky is clear as before with a lot of stars. Another one, brighter one, joins them.
Interior of a church. Ernan, hanging on the bell. All have gathered, dumbfounded. The
sound of the bell dies away. A statue with the Crucifix. Jesus Christ with his eyes closed.
Terry, his hands on his ears, has huddled on the ground. Sam in his wheelchair has
removed the bandage from his eye. He slowly takes his hat off. Looks up. Anthony, Doctor Vernan and Zeva stand behind Terry. Zeva gently puts his hand on Terry’s head and strokes it.
ANTHONY: “Inevitability. Is that the word?”
SAM: “No, it’s freedom.”
ZEVA: “Look! (She points at the Crucifix. Christ has opened his eyes.) HE IS SMILING.”
The bell has stopped tolling.
This is my first theatre play inspired by the movie called “Buster’s Bedroom”, seen longtime ago on the TV, also a source of inspiration were all the great people I’ve met at this point of my life, known and unknown wise men, my personal gurus, who I’ll never forget… I remember, it took me only two weeks during February, to write the whole play, sometimes in the night, other times sitting on a bench in front of the National Libray in Sofia, with frozen hands writing on a tissue from the nearest coffee-shop… I miss those times, though so many years ago already, I feel part of my soul is still living in this play, and tries to find its way during many other cold winters… It is not only to survive, it is to resist, and to keep moving, keep dreaming, keep living with passion…
Thanks for reading!…