On our street in the morning

The street wakes up. For the present it is still, only a little audible the wind rustles the foliage of the trees and sings its morning song Ptah. The first is the janitor, then there are rare passers-by, sometimes there is a rustling of the tires departing from the entrance of the car.

But here comes the rush hour. The street is filled with people and a stream of cars. City noise, gradually increasing, suppresses the sounds of nature. And already it is necessary to strain, to hear the rustle of leaves and the chirping of birds. Everything rushes and rushes towards the working day.

Here’s Mom leads the baby to the kindergarten. He barely keeps up with her, semyenit short legs, from time to time...

moving from step to run. Nearby two schoolboys with heavy knapsacks rush to a stop. Men and women with concentrated faces, on whom concerns and problems are written, are hurrying to work. Sometimes in the crowd there is a man with a dog on a leash. They pay attention to themselves, because the animal behaves too directly, and the owner usually tries to calm the pet.

Tomorrow will come a new morning, and everything will happen again. However, if you want, every day you can make any discovery, even on a street familiar from an early childhood, in your own yard. It is necessary only to look more closely into the world around: the faces of passers-by, city paintings, the behavior of people and animals.


On our street in the morning