I haven't walked that road since I grew up.

And I thought that I would never be turned back again on it.

The war has turned me back to it

but what for?

Like a reminder of my youth?

I am searching for any reasons to be there.

Do they exist? 

Or is it just me slowly, unwillingly walking through places of my childhood and smoothly creating senseless thoughts.

I am on my usual road to school…

Slowly walking…

Smoothly thinking…

*The sign for not walking with dogs is still here, hm, is there another nearby?* (muttering) 

Are there any lessons that I haven’t learned from my childhood?

So that I was turned back to find a purpose in being here during a war?

Remembering my classes that I mostly skipped 

with 12-year-old friends that I mostly lost?

Where are they now? 

Remember when we were all together in the forest, 

investigating the possibilities for a young body to be filled with 

cheap wine or stolen beer liquids.

Or anything that we could ask the unknown adults to buy for us.

I didn't drink, just watched. I swear.

*mined sign* (muttering)

Is the whole forest mined?

12-year-old friends

I can't see them in my neighborhoods

Have they learned their childhood lessons?

Are they in the military right now?

Are they traitors? 

Or hiding somewhere?

Or building a business?

Or…

Did they change?

…“did they change?” is a question I am more interested in, 

because it seems like I am still the same.

An observer. Watcher. 

Slowly walker, smoothly thinker.

Passing by the football pitch

The one I dreamed about, when I was young

with more green than gray

with more grass than concrete

with more goal than miss

with more run than fall

with less harm and blood

with more happiness and smiling.

Slowly walking, smoothly thinking, and comparing two pitches.

*The Gray*

I remember myself funny-running, only following the grass lines sticking out from the ground.

Tried to control the ball

tried not to lose it

but mostly observed how somebody did it better.

An observer, me, was once with a ball more than anybody on The Gray

Showed everyone my young shiny teeth to demonstrate how happy I was.

*…the best player of the moment…* (loudly announced)

I don't remember how it exactly happened.

Did I fall accidentally?

Or did somebody hit me on purpose?

But with a smile on my nine-year-old face and shiny teeth,

I was falling down to the ground and smilingly touched the asphalt with my front tooth.

I lost some of it, then

and now, when I am slowly walking near the pitch, I look at the ground in search of my small tooth-pieces of happiness that were lost in thousands of other slightly broken young body parts.

But this can't be a reason why I was turned back, right? Not to find them. But what for?

I am on my usual road to…

What about… schools? 

Some were destroyed.

What about…my citizens?

Some will never have the possibility of smoothly thinking and slowly walking around their pitches and memories.

Some will never have the possibility to touch their pasts with their hands, again.

To hug the trees they were looking at through the classroom windows.

The war didn't turn them back, there is no place to return to anymore.

The fucking russians destroyed it. Destroyed the possibility of slowly walking around pitches and memories, 

around their grays and greens,

turned it forever into a memory from the past, making it impossible to be a memory from the present.

Maybe the purpose of my existence here is just to directly blame the invaders, nothing to think smoothly about.

*Oh, that is another NO DOG sign*

*Another nearby* (muttering)

One more purpose?

Hug the school while I can?

Touch the ground while it is still whole?

To not be a senseless observer, senseless toucher

senseless writer and walker.

I am already a senseless protector who has only a privilege to slowly walk and smoothly think.

Near the pipes where I was hanging upside down to the ground with my head with no sense. Senseless hanging.

And It feels like that is another reason for my presence in this place at this time.

To perceive that beauty of senselessness, until it makes sense.

And If I stop thinking smoothly and walking slowly, one of the senses of my presence will end… And…

One more purpose?

I have so many things that I don't remember.

The local madman who is saying HI to everyone, 

here he is walking to my school.

Useless info, sorry.

Oh, Here is another useless…

That is the building of my first love, who I still love, 

but not as loudly as I screamed about before.

I have no work now.

Have my time for slowly walking… and softly whispering…

*whispering*

About having the possibility of being a kid on his way to 

the building of his ex.

*Knock Knock*.... (waiting)

(running)

On his run to his school, being too late for lessons.

Looking for maturity somewhere in the ground or roots of trees.

Am I somebody who will cry on the front about how he is missing his home and will it be an obstacle in protecting the home itself?

How can I be more adult than a kid?

I am only 18. Not. I'm 22, actually. 28.

Should be ready to fight, to kill, to save, to die, to the war.

Mom told me that russian murderers will come right from that forest,

right from that path.

Am I here for that reason? To meet them? Should I just stay and wait? Ok, I will…

. . . . . .

. . . . .

. . . . . .

. . . . .

Seems like I have some time to add a few more words.

So… Few more words.