***
The night touches your eyelids with gentle hands, and you
recover your sight with the silence of a forgotten memory, living
in the shadow of uncreated eternity. Short-sighted days
look into the pupils, tired from delight, and spin
a documentary film of frightened events
in the empty hall of imagination.
The war goes on.The war goes on.War runs.War flies.Today I rememberwith what passionin my childhoodwe…
Yesterday, Oleksandr Korotko received a letter to his personal mail, which mentioned the intention of…
Olexandr Korotko is constantly working on new works, which we regularly publish in the relevant…
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* * * Every nation and its country has a time of rise, growth and…