I want to write about parents,
who are those people, who were carrying about me, who were accepting so many, way too many crazy things I did in my small life:
when I flew with a parachute in high school alone, when I went alone to Crimea, went to expeditions at the end of the world, sometimes to abstract Hilbert spaces, from where some people may not return back, when I was copying fotos for hours from books…
There were many hard moments with them, but despite of everything people.
Sometimes, in the grey world the black-white fotos from my childhood make my life so colourful.
who are those people, who were carrying about me, who were accepting so many, way too many crazy things I did in my small life:
when I flew with a parachute in high school alone, when I went alone to Crimea, went to expeditions at the end of the world, sometimes to abstract Hilbert spaces, from where some people may not return back, when I was copying fotos for hours from books…
There were many hard moments with them, but despite of everything people.
Sometimes, in the grey world the black-white fotos from my childhood make my life so colourful.
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