State Duma

Feelings of hunger, fear and a thirst for knowledge, the necessity of choice, all these schools, the army, beauty contests, the State Duma already appeared Then, much, much later. At present, complex world where food can be separated from the hungry, loving one another, the commander of the army, worker from the money reign vanity, anxiety, danger, the need for purposeful activity. When people call before the death of my mother – they call primordial ocean. And yet a sense of the ocean known to us and to adult terrestrial life. It comes to us, embraces us when we has a strong passion, a great feeling. Then again, all in one, and all the pomp and acquires meaning. The smell of cut grass, the color of the sky, the face of the conductor and the height of the porch steps …

But in everyday life too much fuss. A thousand little things! – That's the curse of life modern civilized man. The pace of work in Western civilization – one of the deadlocks of evolution. Such as puffins, as unnecessarily heavy branching antlers of swamp deer. Daily burden of affairs and dealings, the endless view tysyachestranichnyh directories, merging, melteshaschih ads do not add to happiness. Person loses the ability to experience strong feelings, hopelessness horns entangled in the stunted undergrowth.

That feeling of Motherland – version of the feelings of the ocean. When used to too nosy American journalists beat the muzzle in some regional banana paradise, then this imprudent bank come to "the big ships from the ocean." And in the dust spread the palace of the native kings, and his own "naked in the Africa Forest. And after the show beautifully arranged on the roads for a solemn meeting of the rescued compatriots. And of course the people who know that they have a homeland, not alien feeling of the ocean. Similar feeling full and happy involvement in a huge bore through the small details and particulars of everyday life and the Soviet boy-poet, expressed the unwavering confidence: "But we More will come to the Ganges, and we still die in the fighting that from Japan to England shone my motherland. " It is this sense, it is the right person, trying to excite a young hooligans, when, gathered in his lair under the two guitars are singing in unison: "In came to our harbor ships, big ships from the ocean … "Romantic young robbers, fry the future of bulls, they do not want to live in Solntsevo and Luberetskiy slums. They want to live in the ocean! All they want. Pull over and listen tale. To relax and fall asleep. And to them about love sweet voice singing. And, in general, any passionate subject is elusive. From time to time. Long. Sometimes followed by disappointment, sometimes without. Possible, because all interpretational mystic sense of the ocean is derived from the albeit rare, but the standard of functional state of the species. The critical question ultimately not technical but moral: to whom pressed? Whose fairy tale you believe, happily turning a blind eye? After all you can eat your fill and garbage. Well-fed animal in the absence of external stimuli to sleep. And to me something I can not sleep. Long time I did not have a sense of the ocean. You too? Tell me a story?

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