The ability to see the story in everything that surrounds you is rather the companion of those who read a lot. You walk along the street, you look at the pharmacy, a yellow stain of light falling from the window onto the pavement that has just become covered with frost, traces of a dog and several passers-by, crossing this spot and a story is born in your head. Or the autumn grapes over the entrance to the book cafe, the lamps are lost in them and the light is again the same yellow as was in the childhood. Are you a writer, photographer, artist, designer, muse? Something is happening in your head and so in this heap of information inspiration is born… Recently I was a guest of the talented artist, so everything was permeated with the sources of this Energy: the grid on the floor, the courtyard with holes in the brick walls, where pigeons live, an ashtray on the marble window sill, a door from the yard, reminiscent of the entrance to an unknown magical dimension… My hand did not want to let go when parting. It seemed if you let go, the magic will disappear, the personality will evaporate, and with it all the fruits of creativity and miracles. We live by touch. To feel this is such a rarity. To appreciate this is priceless luck.