43 years old Ukraine Kirovograd
a real man. it is impossible to put all men in standard frames. every men is unique. the main thing is when a man wants to improve himself. a real woman always lives with every real man and she was able to discerne that reality in him, believe him, follow him, entrust him with her and her children lives, their family and she is ready to be with him in grief and joy. one ancient treatise says that real quantity of a man is the number of those whom he takes the responsibility of, the responsibility to take care and protect. real quantity of a woman is the amount of her love to her man and children. so, the formula of a real man is he is strong, courageous and kind warrior, father and son, husband and friend. responsible and magnanimous, generous and caring. he lives somewhere and i have only one thing to do. to look around attentively.
airy and vivid, piligrim, the sparkles of the dying sun are shining in my eyes... light smile and dreaminess...i know that sometimes it is hard to look at beauty and sometimes people just dont notice it . only loosing something, it is possible to understand how much you have valued it. i dont believe in fairy-tales but i like to listen to them. my time is a moment. outflowing light sun, which sliped on the sky, falls somewhere beyond the edge of visibility. i like to be in a crowd. i like to feel myself as a part of this world, but unlikely that someone would notice me. the moment is imperceptible in eternal shift of day and night, black and white. the edge stays often behind you earlier then you understand this. and facing sunset and inhaling his last beams, i decide where i will move on, who i will be tomorrow and who will die in me today...