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“One autumn, their entire class was sent to clean a park in the far part of the city.
All the schoolchildren with rakes, brooms and paint scattered in all directions throughout the large kingdom of trees.
Someone painted benches and borders.
Someone was sweeping the old overgrown paving stones.
Someone went to the farthest corner from the teacher, raked up the fallen leaves into a pile and lay on this pile as if on the softest feather bed of the world.
Even in such an activity as a subbotnik, under the strict gaze of teachers, children can find something beautiful.
The smell of rotten leaves, the shine of cobwebs in the wind, the noise of branches, the last warm rays of the native star breaking through the orange lace.
And someone wandered so far from all the bustle, new sidewalks and familiar paths
that they found a pond in the depths of the park, and not far from it - a tree with benches.
The noise of the city was not heard in this place. Nature was noisy here.
And it seems that no one, except our young wanderers with brooms and a couple of old men, has sat on this bench for a very long time.
A place of peace. I would remember it for the rest of my life and come again.
Maybe one day this tree will grow so much that the bench will stand on its roots, and the crown will create
better shelter from the branches, the scorching sun and prying eyes.
But this is a completely different story, which they don’t know about yet and just sit on the bench, soaking up every moment of the Indian summer."
All the schoolchildren with rakes, brooms and paint scattered in all directions throughout the large kingdom of trees.
Someone painted benches and borders.
Someone was sweeping the old overgrown paving stones.
Someone went to the farthest corner from the teacher, raked up the fallen leaves into a pile and lay on this pile as if on the softest feather bed of the world.
Even in such an activity as a subbotnik, under the strict gaze of teachers, children can find something beautiful.
The smell of rotten leaves, the shine of cobwebs in the wind, the noise of branches, the last warm rays of the native star breaking through the orange lace.
And someone wandered so far from all the bustle, new sidewalks and familiar paths
that they found a pond in the depths of the park, and not far from it - a tree with benches.
The noise of the city was not heard in this place. Nature was noisy here.
And it seems that no one, except our young wanderers with brooms and a couple of old men, has sat on this bench for a very long time.
A place of peace. I would remember it for the rest of my life and come again.
Maybe one day this tree will grow so much that the bench will stand on its roots, and the crown will create
better shelter from the branches, the scorching sun and prying eyes.
But this is a completely different story, which they don’t know about yet and just sit on the bench, soaking up every moment of the Indian summer."
One of my many illustrations of the rat-environment series.New art almost every Wednesday
Other art can be found by tags #крыскосреда #ratednesday If you like this series of illustrations, you can become my Boosty subscriber and support the project.
The more support, the more work
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Category Artwork (Digital) / All
Species Rat
Size 2280 x 1616px
File Size 1.14 MB
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