Good morning, my city

in5dexGood morning, my city. The sun was just lit up your old houses, winding streets, squares. You wake up, sip, comes to life: somewhere in a hurry passersby on the road race machines – all busy with their own affairs. And no one notices the main: you’re the best. “Normal city are much” – tell me. And I
answer: “No, he’s special, my only city.” I slowly walk down the familiar streets, inhaling the smell of pungent mist and fires. Sail by houses, trees, embroidered with their green purple dresses, purple and gold threads, because today holiday. Your holiday …
Waking up, or, on the contrary, lost in a dream, I look around. I feel that something has happened. But what happened? Passers-by smile at each other, saying that the kind words, warms the soul in these cold days. Trees that stood before at random, straightened his back and looked up, as if proud, invincible people. Dirty sidewalk suddenly transformed. itself Queen of Autumn had spread to them woven from multi-colored leaves carpet. And people walk on it very carefully, trying not to destroy the pristine beauty. “But what really happened?” – In hundredth time, I ask myself this question. Focusing on the waterfront, I notice that a formidable river, publish a battle cry, suddenly calmed down, looked like a gentle gentle girl, singing songs of praise to my city. In the old park sit on a bench under a birch tree. strewn
golden leaves, it (the bench) is exactly the royal throne. unexpectedly recall.

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