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 Invisible Icon |
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Tags: softimage 3, enemas images, large collection of images, anjeza shahini the image of, of imagemakers
But I have decided to continue the search while the death will not stop me - and what I needed to do?Night was long, but my interrupting dream was short. Fortunately nobody encroached on my tent as though I was invisible to all inhabitants of this night. The dawn has come. I have had a bite, have shouldered bags and have gone further on road plates.
She has led me in wood where the mighty crone of trees absolutely closed the sky and did not pass solar beams. Road plates were absolutely pure and light. Even it seemed that they let out a weak luminescence. And now on them it was not visible these symbols unpleasant for an eye.
The road was not a straight line. It wound among thick trees with a smooth red-brown bark. Trunks were absolutely naked, mighty branches with leaves grew only highly over the earth at the tops.
I went already long enough when my attention was involved with these unusual trees. Their leaves were bright green and seemed absolutely fresh as though now there was a spring, and they were just dismissed. But the strangeness consisted not in it is when I passed by, leaves started to rustle in itself though there was an absolute calm. I have stopped and have looked upwards. Really, I was not mistaken. Leaves over my head have started moving - they as though exchanged words with each other.
It can poison operates on my brain, what to me any improbable things seem? It would be desirable for me that it was so - after all I could not think seriously of speaking trees?
Fear at me was not - only curiosity. I thought, whether it is necessary to me to go further? After all if one of these mighty branches fails to me on a head it means a certain death. Leaves all rustled and rustled. And I have started to believe that they talk among themselves in language unfamiliar to me.
In this rustle I felt impatience - as though they waited from me for the answer and could not wait. I so have like it, what even have asked aloud:
- What do you want from me?
Leaves rustled, and the longer I looked at them, the it seemed to me more, what is it at all leaves, what is it thousand tongues of flame, a bright green flame. Yes, bright green, but with gleams is bright-blue, both yellow, and dark-violet... I stood as though under a fabric, a wonderful gobelin on which the pattern unfamiliar to me has been weaved.
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