My dear friend!

I hate this road, and I've been on it for such a long time! Yet again, there is the sound of the whistle from the steam locomotive. It's departing, filling the air with the smell of oil and dust. I feel tired after inhaling the scent. Outside the window, an equally unfamiliar landscape flashes faster and faster. I hate this road that parted us so suddenly!

With every line, you seem closer. And while I am writing these letters, I live in this illusion, and countless miles between us become less important.

The sound of wheels chases me and lulls me with its eternity. It fills the emptiness of the dark night. It doesn't let me forget that there is a distance and time between us, a kaleidoscope of days and nights, stations and cities that I hate. I can't help but smile when I envision you impatiently opening my envelope after getting it out of the mailbox. My hurried lines will delight you with good news, my soul, my labor is not in vain.

It isn't easy to imagine where my path will take me and where I will see off the setting sun. Perhaps at the same time, you will meet him. It warms my heart to think that you don't forget and write to me, so warmly and openly. Envelopes with colorful stamps are constantly flying between us, and again I am sending you a letter, counting days in anticipation of your answer. I'm am looking forward to hearing back from you. 

Please write…

Karas gallery. Kyiv. Ukraine. 2016