The streamlet finds its way,
And through the quiet village
It flows in eddying play.
A dark youth left his doorway,
And sought the water-side,
And, laving there his hands and brow,
"O streamlet sweet!" he cried,
"Say, from what mountain com'st thou?"
"From yonder mountain cold
Where snow on snow lies sleeping,
The new snow on the old. [..]"
cytat z: "The Youth and the Streamlet", Sayat Nova - ormiański poeta i bard
The Zone is a very complicated system of traps, and they're all deadly. I don't know what's going on here in the absence of people, but the moment someone shows up, everything comes into motion. Old traps disappear and new ones emerge. Safe spots become impassable. Now your path is easy, now it's hopelessly involved. That's the Zone. It may even seem capricious. But it is what we've made it with our condition. It happened that people had to stop halfway and go back. Some of them even died on the very threshold of the room.
But everything that's going on here depends not on the Zone, but on us!
So it lets the good ones pass and kills the bad ones?
I don't know. I think it lets those pass who have lost all hope. Not good or bad, but wretched people. But even
the most wretched will die if they don't know how to behave. You have been lucky, it just warned you.
"Stalker", Andrei Tarkovsky
SIN U SO IDA
EX IM PLOSIO
Z ZADUSZKOWYCH STRAGANÓW NA SALONY
WIEJSKIE ŻYCIE CHOINKI
MADE IN JAPAN
KAN DU SE ROSA ELEFANTER?
NIGHT FOR DAY
Omen. Nie warto płakać nad rozlanym mlekiem!?
Sen o antykach pociętych przez bobry w drzazgi
A gdy miasta dumne spotkasz, to w ruinę je zamienisz.
cytat z : "Takaś słodka", Sayat Nova
Let everything that's been planned come true. Let them believe. And let them have a laugh at their passions. Because what they call passion actually is not some emotional energy, but just the friction between their souls and the outside world. And most important, let them believe in themselves. Let them be helpless like children, because weakness is a great thing, and strength is nothing. When a man is just born, he is weak and flexible. When he dies, he is hard and insensitive. When a tree is growing, it's tender and pliant. But when it's dry and hard, it dies. Hardness and strength are death's companions. Pliancy and weakness are expressions of the freshness of being. Because what has hardened will never win.
"Stalker" Andreyi Tarkovsky