Letters. Ctrl+Alt+rightwards arrow - Valentine Ruzanov

Google it and get charred!

BRIEF HISTORY

A girl from Lithuania comes to the English club that I visit and leaves home six months later. A year later, I find her online and try to start a correspondence on her personal Facebook page with questions like: «Whats the weather like?» My hope crumbles to smithereens  having entered the next day, I read the answer to my question: http://meteo.lt

Best of the best. Known to everyone.

Smart and pretty.

Her strong point is fractal code.

Everything in the world is chaotic.

And we were looking for happiness there,

But it was very boring.

Zero was only divided in half

And then  only latently.

I wont go into details right now,

Read on my blog.

And then one day at a good hour

We met on the road.

That train was on the wrong way to Moscow

(where  the secret, of course).

I did not dare to approach

I doubt forever.

 Problems with the code? OK!

She smiled at me.

In a notebook of numbers, a round dance.

 Did you succeed?

I was numb: what a fractal!

The weather is to blame!

And whispered in her ear

After waiting for her «Input»:

 I didnt know how to approach you.

 Here is the link: meteo.lt

Passionate eyes

Metronome.

Prepared.

Lined.

Andromeda is chained to the tablet.

Detached.

Multi-rent.

At a friends,

Zakidachnaya.

Anomaly. Explosion. You are delicious!

These games are not familiar

Only to those who write for a long time.

I write in the moonlight

And has long been like a wolf.

Looking ahead, grinning,

The snow is ringing under the paws.

Im just as ardent during the day

Only mom doesnt order.

WHY I GET OFF HANDS

I was wrong  you were silent.

I apologized  you were waiting.

You didnt answer me at all

I understood: business, business.

Forgotten. Blocked two times.

Dont joke with her brother!

«Im in love» is not your phrase,

«Can not be!»  should come off.

I expect a letter of recognition from you

But you are silent as a punishment.

Ride yourself on the road

And I write poetry in the porches.

Cold, dark and damp

Witnesses of sorrow

I go to one of them

And I dont sleep there at night.

But not alone, the moon is with me

And I rejoice: maybe

And sometimes you can see it

And you are sad too.

I am writing you lines about nothing

And I only expect reproaches

But you will read it anyway

(Yes, it happens. Like in the movies.)

For the third year we have been in correspondence

Spilled whiskey on Claudia yesterday

And without noticing it right away

I wrote this phrase:

«I havent heard your laugh for a long time.»

And on the screen: «Heh  heh  heh!»

Then I continued typing

But the letters had little room:

«Ha  ha  ha  haaaaa, hee  hee  hee  hiiiiiiiii»

And then the screw died! (from longing!!!).

I didnt know to cry or laugh

I shouldnt have fallen in love with you

And let them spill on the clave of those

Who doesnt like your laugh.

do you like flowers

what else, tell me?

like dew drops

laugh and come in

how to surprise me with you?

I write poems. you know.

I started looking for you

when I studied at the Bursa

you will be surprised: «in the bursa?»

well, yes, in a theological school

«Look for me? why?»

Do not know. sea! sea!

we will go out to the terrace

and as the mentor taught us

for level two

press just enter

love is not an exact science

she is just my pain and boredom

playing hide and seek

I dont like riddles like that

why do you need me? the question is not accurate

Im not very amorous

so why not sleep then?

I deny everything, all the grief?

all this do not bother you

only you will fall in love too

and then right away, for sure

cum with honors in absentia

CTRL + A, DEL

Girl, girl

Shame on you!

You have deleted all the files in the jam.

I worked for three days and three nights

Yes, I like you very much, but by the way

Pressing a button is not a tricky business.

Backspace or Delete! Nice and bold!

You say: «Im just ignorant,

And I treat you kindly and tenderly.»

Yes, you are like a delicate flower

Spaces, spaces, read between the lines.

(Evgeniya Shtyreva)

I type: «www»

Your address is on my mind.

Dead night, distant barking

«Dog», address and on-line.

 Hey!

 Hey!

 Are you bored?

 No.

I spent a long time typing an answer.

 You shouldnt miss me, you shouldnt!

 Yu.dzh.h.s.,  I prayed quietly.

 Your on-line is timid, your address is stupid!

First time

I saw you at the concert

I saw all my eyes

You passed like the wind past the ticket offices

and Patricia Cass sang on stage