Framed House near the lake, Hand Painted Oil Painting 30x40 cm ART DECO
One day in late autumn I have something awakened at night. I listened: rings, and I realized that this is nothing like a bell, which was at the gate. I got up and dressed. I lived alone in an empty house in the village, three hundred kilometers from Moscow. No one in night could not come to me, the whole village was asleep.
I opened the gate - for it was none other, and my friend the fisherman, the director of the Moscow theater. - For two days from Moscow! - He said happily. - To go fishing!. The night is! And the air! - How did you arrived? - Great! - The director said. - I did not sleep on the boat. All I worried. Just I close my eyes and saw the dark water, quiet gray sky, barely glimmering dawn ... - a sleep ?! - No, you. To sleep, I do not want to. Here are some tea, and gather in an hour we'll move to break through "Prorva" (called the river). - Of course, we'll move. In an empty house immediately became noisy.
We went out of the house even in the dark. Rain water in the ruts covered with transparent Ledkov. It smelled of grass. An hour later, we came to the abyss. Water! Now it was gray-green, autumn and something reminiscent of the sea. The river seemed completely lifeless. We chose the place closed by the west wind. Strange feeling. I felt an acute sense of the extraordinary recreation and proximity of something mysterious. Obviously, this feeling was akin to that state which we call happiness ...
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