September evening broke into the open balcony door, and caressed with warm air, my hair, face, neck, raising the room casual, hasty leaves yellowing trees. I really like this time of night Beyond the window every day no evening It is not dark, but not the bright light of the sun, trying to once again hide behind the Ostankino television tower And there – on the streets – starting at dusk slowly – one at a time droves and "pulling" from the crowds, traffic jams and davok, begins to dissolve in the yards and porches small ant – the inhabitants of the stone nest – a large city. Interphone and sang nervously flapped front door. Windows of the houses came to life flashed lights as the Christmas tree In apartments began life This is different as their inhabitants to travel between the walls and partitions apartments voices sound drills, peppy text anchors, shouting "Goal! . Th! Rod! ", Crying children and parents notation Oh, damn! Yes, I not wanted to write about it Strongly shed autumnal obsession and again pause Again white blank sheets of notebook Again offended Hidden monitor an old company, and philosophical and bored keyboard How do they explain, to tell you to trust what bothered me. Worried for a whole day Keep in suspense And a little shudder. Why? Yes, perhaps, because for me the newspaper from inside the thick marker line headers, splashes somebody's horror, pain, hate