Firebird. Klimov A.N.

The gods live in Russia. A fairy tale is their life.

It hurts the heart - it hurts the soul. It's just pain. The gods should know her. Eyes open with a smile - this light bursts with a drop from the soul sleeping in the darkness. A charming smile slides a sun bunny on the lips. The smell of love teases with his spice charming nostrils. They tremble impatiently. A scream rolled through the body of the fire of love, the fire of the word. Hot. Exhausting. Breaking. Fabulous.

The gods live in Russia. They just play love.

This book is about love. What is she? She is a fairy tale. The fairy tale tells you: do not rush when you read this book.. Make it for yourself a pleasure. Here, in every word, the strength of the Russian spirit is hidden. Here you hear in their rhythm a hurrying shot of keys... And here the windfill-screaming flight of a dream. And with them the smells of these sounds fly to you. Here it smelled of frosty starry sky, but you are mechanically leafing through, and the taste of honey touches your children's lips.

You hear the snowball playing hide and seek with you with your frosty creaking? And by chance, in a winter evening during meals, you will learn this laughing crunch of frosty snow in the taste of red -hot and lingonberries of white cabbage, and you smile, and the mixing mischievously squints your eyes...

this is the way from a fairy tale To the fairy tale, from the note “to” to the note “s”, from the smell of the sun to the smell of frosty whiteness, you will enter into the unusual threary kingdom flooded with sunlight. So the fairy tale will become the past.

And do not rush. Now every word of this book will reveal your secret to you and lure with your light whisper. And the spirit of the Russian land will fill your mind, and its light will become our beloved Mother Russia.