Der Vorgang 34624
nina_dr@mednexus.ru
Nina
Der erste Kontakt 34624
Anzahl der Mails: 3
| Mailtext |
|---|
| Hi Deciding to create this note turned out to be more challenging than I believed. Dispatching my reflections into the digital void to a unknown person is like uttering softly something important into an vacant bottle and tossing it into the deep, hoping the tides won't lose track of it. My world is not about the busy chaos of a capital city, but a quiet country town, swamped by the greenery of backyards. Here, the hours crawl leisurely, like the melody of an antique barrel organ, and when evening falls, the lanes are immersed in such a mellow golden light that it appears as if the moment stops to catch its breath. I am a medical professional. I help people... and, maybe, a tiny bit of my own inner hurts too. I have a home, a career, novels—everything that is regarded as a sign of a quiet life. But sometimes, particularly in the dusk, I find myself experiencing... not loneliness, but rather expectation. As if the most interesting part of my life's book hasn't even commenced, and I'm still going over the drawn-out introduction. I would like to encounter a person with whom this expectation would finally be swapped for a emotion of returning home. Someone with whom it would be effortless both to be silent and to talk until sunrise. An individual who can see the tale behind an simple expression and perceive the harmony in everyday language. Naturally, I understand that a shadow of doubt falls over all of this—can you really discover something authentic where everything originates from a screen? But perhaps the rules have shifted? Perhaps you are the one who will read between the lines not just letters, but a spirit? With sincerity, from the interior of Russia. Nina. |
| Hi
Deciding to compose this missive turned out to be more tough than I believed. Dispatching my musings into the online abyss to a stranger is like murmuring something important into an vacant bottle and throwing it into the sea, hoping the currents won't lose it. My life is not about the frantic pace of a metropolis, but a tranquil country town, drowning in the foliage of gardens. Here, the hours pass languidly, like the tune of an antique hurdy-gurdy, and when evening falls, the streets are immersed in such a mellow warm light that it feels as if everything stops to pause for a moment. I am a medical professional. I treat people... and, probably, a little bit of my own soul's wounds too. I have a place to live, a job, literature—everything that is seen as a mark of a calm lifestyle. But sometimes, most notably in the night, I catch myself feeling... not loneliness, but rather a sense of waiting. As if the most captivating part of my narrative hasn't even started, and I'm still reading again the long beginning. I would like to meet a individual with whom this expectation would finally be substituted with a sensation of arriving home. A person with whom it would be effortless both to be wordless and to speak until daybreak. A person who can see the narrative behind an ordinary expression and hear the melody in everyday language. Of course, I comprehend that a shadow of doubt clouds all of this—can you really find something genuine where everything begins with a monitor? But maybe the game have changed? What if you are the one who will see the deeper meaning not just letters, but a essence? Yours truly, from the interior of Russia. Nina. |
| Greetings
Deciding to draft this missive turned out to be more challenging than I imagined. Dispatching my musings into the digital nothingness to a unknown person is like murmuring something significant into an empty bottle and throwing it into the sea, hoping the waves won't misplace it. My life is not about the frantic pace of a major city, but a peaceful country town, immersed in the foliage of yards. Here, the daylight hours pass languidly, like the tune of an old hurdy-gurdy, and when evening falls, the streets are bathed in such a gentle amber glow that it feels as if everything stops to pause for a moment. I am a medical professional. I care for people... and, perhaps, a small part of my own soul's wounds too. I have a home, a profession, literature—everything that is seen as a indication of a quiet life. But sometimes, especially in the night, I catch myself feeling... not loneliness, but rather a sense of waiting. As if the most captivating part of my narrative hasn't even commenced, and I'm still going over the lengthy prologue. I would like to find a man with whom this anticipation would finally be replaced by a feeling of coming home. A person with whom it would be simple both to be silent and to speak until daybreak. A person who can perceive the tale behind an ordinary expression and perceive the melody in ordinary phrases. Certainly, I understand that a tinge of skepticism hangs over all of this—can you really locate something real where everything originates from a screen? But maybe the game have changed? Perhaps you are the one who will read between the lines not just words, but a spirit? Yours truly, from the interior of Russia. Nina. |