It's You, beautiful and happy. Never forget this! Bashny.Net

An unusual story about an ordinary miracle – because that is what we most often lack.

— Hello!

A young woman, not yet forty, with a good figure, bad posture, with two packages from a nearby store and fatigue in his voice, in his eyes.

— Good afternoon, miss. Please sit down, here, loose stool. What do You want? Photos of the documents? For a visa?
— I... see... well, I was told that You are a magician.
— Who am I?
Magician. You will be able to perform a miracle.
— Honey, what the sign says? That's right, "ICHP grief. Photographic services". I make photos to documents, and occasionally shoot weddings, children, drunk people at corporate events. Any miracles.





©Marina Kutyavina

The woman looked at the photographer looked away.

But I was told... She couldn't be wrong, You helped her once... Please don't send me away. You know, I really need a miracle, at least a little, otherwise nothing will change, and will always be.
— No, honey, no You are not driving. Would you like some tea?

Without waiting for a reply, Goryaev turned on the kettle, pulled from the shelves a guest mug.
The woman quickly saw SENCO, haltingly told his life, the photographer was silent, listening.

— A miracle, you say? Then invert the bag over here. Don't worry, the packages will not fall. Take it steady, the right hand a little higher. Yeah, well. Now the light just changed. Look into the lens. Smile.

A barely noticeable smile, bewilderment, curiosity.
The shutter clicked — once, twice, three. On the monitor of the old computer saraevskogo there were pictures.

— Oh, and what would it be?
— Patience, young lady, just fifteen minutes.

Warm soft filter on the whole frame, like the sun at dawn. Goryaev called this effect "the tale." To soften wrinkles, shadows under the eyes, to correct posture. In his hands — a bouquet of photo library, small sunflowers and blue irises almost the color of her eyes. Instead of a flat Studio background — bright autumn morning in Golden mist somewhere in Paris, Chartres, Rouen, really can not tell. The ring on the ring? No, that's she, if I want to. Sheet matte paper. Print.



— Oh! I? It's true I? So beautiful? Like...
— Yes, honey, it's You, beautiful and happy. Never forget this.

The woman stared at the photo. Disappeared from her face wrinkles, gray shadow of fatigue, mischievous girly sparkle gleamed in his eyes. She picked up his bag, shopping bags easily, like an empty kiss Goryaeva in a long time not shaved cheek, ran out of his tiny Studio.

 



19 GOLDEN rules of life

Love recipe

 

Grief sat with closed eyes in front of the computer, then took from the drawer a flask, poured in his mug Golden spicy drink, drank, grimaced. Monitor all looked at him a woman from far away — Paris, Chartres, Rouen, in fog, can not tell. The grief pressed the two buttons "Close" and "save".published

 

Author: modest Osipov, "Tales for themselves"

 



Source: fit4brain.com/10490