Somewhere near main square I spotted her, she was waiting for somebody, nervously looking around and tugging her bag – dark haired girl in dress with open shoulders. I knew at once what she felt.

Perhaps, private date, when person under question promised, but has not come. By sadness and special air of vulnerability, I could say she was in love. At this point I recollected the words of Russian writer Edward Limonov: “Those who are loved always leave”.

How many years she needs to realize that global emotional investments in love affairs are not justified! Chances to meet eternity manifested in somebody are slim, as long as you don’t find this eternity in yourself

Feeling lonely I would go to railway station and stay there thinking about different things. What is love? What is success and failure? They exist as patterns common for all, or everybody has his own definition? What is there for sure is movement. Moving along the road, sometimes carriage can even stop or go backwards when line is busy, but always resumes to go forward. Every step is as important as next one, and all of them have equal value. I mean there is not better than here and now. And road never ends.