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Youth Fragments

PART III


What should be said about youth? It was a stormy, eventful time. The first love, experiences, different blows of circumstances. I do not regret any failures and flaws, in fact there are not as many of them as they could be. The youth was platform-forming for me, the time in my summer home was especially bright. This is a symphony. It is simply impossible to say otherwise. This part will be dedicated to my life in a summer house near the Baltic Sea coast in a gentle pine forest in Carnikava region.


There is simply no better place for me. In the summer, this place comes to life, a village idyll is formed, the sun turns red like a ruby, the nights are warm and full of stars. The energy of this place never dies away, even in the most severe winter cold, in the cold autumn rain. But summer. Absolutely the best that can be here. All the gardens are blooming all around, gardeners and gardeners who do not straighten work on plantings, admiring the fruits of their labor. How nice it is to wake up here in the early morning, when the color of the sky is like a faint salmon shade, there is still cool air on the lawn with pleasant drops of dew. Birds begin to sing their sonets, animals are not visible, they are afraid of human attention. You can rarely see an animal here, they are all more often in a century-old pine forest, which gives everyone here a huge flow of power and energy. He feeds us, giving us the wealth of his product. The region is filled with lakes, beyond the endless expanses of the Baltic Sea. Pretty nice just to be here, to breathe this air. You cannot imagine how philosophical it is. I got acquainted with this place at the age of seven.


At first he was afraid, he was a city boy. Gradually delved into the essence of natural man. Work in the countryside taught me independence, confidence and responsibility. He himself mastered the basics of home economics and manual labor, carved wooden figurines and made crafts. Here they taught to prick and cut firewood, hammer nails, plane, repair something. I was an untreated stone that required cutting through labor. Immediately I met with new guys, first kissed and met the first Mademoiselle. This place will never be left by me, I am inseparable. My past, future and of course the present will be connected with my little world, in which I am I.

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With obliviously and responsibility to the readers, I am writing to generalize the whole of my circumstances, which I had lived and analysed. The life- an unexpected research and travel to anywhere. In certain moments I misunderstood the matter of the time valuation and communication peculiarities. Did I take up the early authorship of writing my memoirs? Is this necessary in this small, not very full age phase? In principle, this period is saturated with a huge amount of emotions and certain knowledge, which I at least have not had time to forget. Timely fixation of the material, the possibility of its reproduction in subsequent years for followers is an exquisite in nature thing, because this heritage, most of all, means my historical diversity, though the truth is still a minor person. Guided by the opportunity given to me, I present my small essays from past impressions.
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PART III YOUTH FRAGMENTS What should be said about youth? It was a stormy, eventful time. The first love, experiences, different blows of circumstances. I do not regret any failures and flaws, in fact there are not as many of them as they could be. The youth was platform-forming for me, the time in my summer home was especially bright. This is a symphony. It is simply impossible to say otherwise. This part will be dedicated to my life in a summer house near the Baltic Sea coast in a gentle pine forest in Carnikava region. There is simply no better place for me. In the summer, this place comes to life, a village idyll is formed, the sun turns red like a ruby, the nights are warm and full of stars. The energy of this place never dies away, even in the most severe winter cold, in the cold autumn rain. But summer. Absolutely the best that can be here. All the gardens are blooming all around, gardeners and gardeners who do not straighten work on plantings, admiring the fruits of t
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PART VI A KIND OF POETERY Some Lyrics. This sonnet of Shakespeare, number 28, I knowingly chose this number, you will guess. In part, he demonstrates some aspects of my existence. I'm not upset about anything. I develop. I analyze and try to help others. How can I then return in happy plight, That am debarred the benefit of rest? When day's oppression is not eas'd by night, But day by night and night by day oppressed, And each, though enemies to either's reign, Do in consent shake hands to torture me, The one by toil, the other to complain How far I toil, still farther off from thee. I tell the day, to please him thou art bright, And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven: So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night, When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even. But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer, And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger.
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