~Through the night, and darkness, we rush forward to the tops of the universe. What for we're?~ The original version of this song was composed, written and mixed on board of the night train to Berlin, in 2004. Here is an updated version number…

Smoke of the past The shadow of experiences What was not But could have been ~ For Kevin Scot Sparks, Painter-Prof., All-Age Mentor & Trumpeter-Producer

~...and it happens this way: You remember what it once was, well... the feelings and all that~ P.S. Birds recorded in Anadyr that is on the edge of the earth, the white night.

Lions and Tigers and Bears. Are dancing, right within the Void (by way of Martin Silenus, The Poet) ~For Svetlana, my only love~ Note: The music presented here is composed and handcrafted without use of additional devices/midi, mostly on…

Whatever happens - go ahead, to keep up with _________ (insert here). For the life itself it does not matter - you go or not. ~Hyperion Cantos~

At least once each of us has seen the so-called prophetic dream, bright or in matt. Come true, though? ~There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear…

The circus is leaving, for good. Adults are happy (oh, at last they were gone!). Children are unhappy (there was a lion and clown, acrobats and candy and ... all that!). Ahh... ~You'll not believe, but: nothing lasts forever. Lollipop even~

In the theater. Slowly the lights go down, calm idle talk, curtain, and ...

On the one hand, each of us is unique and has its own sea inside. On the other hand, we are very similar, sometimes even too much. That's interesting - our seas too much alike? ~for the inner space of each of us~

This story about good crocodile, which stopped in the middle, sits on a suitcase, recalls the past and thinks: where to go next? Also: Why should we hurry—why indeed? When every way we fly We are molested equally By immortality. No respite…

~Was covered by a coat of snow, but the beauty comes through~

~blizzard a silent. In white~

~and then he felt how it was - that last year's snow~

~time as metaphor of being~ ...the chronotope is 'a unit of analysis for studying language according to the ratio and characteristics of the temporal and spatial categories represented in that language'. Specific chronotopes are said to correspond…

Musical piece about the fairy adventures of toys on and around the Christmas tree, and all that. For us, the boring adults realists, such a story is ridiculous, but not for them - for children who listen to tales with bated breath. For them…

Daytime and night direction of the senses are different, and not only with increased perception, but also with some distortion of reality. Voices of the previous thousands of years?

This piece is an illustration of one of the episodes of a Russian fairy tale about a little brave Humpbacked Horse. Instruments used: blues harp (harmonica), classical guitar and some bells-and-whistles. Narrated by Svetlana.

There is only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous. And back.

Time goes, faster and faster. Old friends disappear as though they were not there at all. What remains? Blues, that all blues. It's mine.

Indecision is not always bad, sometimes it even leads to the determination. Or leads to the solution. Or does not lead anywhere (also a kind of solution). ~For Tessa~