I don't know why I'm writing this. It's about 12 pm on the clock (Is this right to say 12 pm? Maybe 0 am?) and it's me sitting with my cat laying over me and reading Fedor Dostoevsky "The idiot".
The only reason I'm writing this, is to describe how I remember myself sitting in the garden beside my house, on a chair, watching around, feeling good just because of looking around seeing a green trees and brushes. I was thinking about everything and nothing altogether while was sitting on the chair I was taking a warm and shiny bath and some of the rays were playing with my eyes.
It's interesting, I felt so happy and understand it now, sitting inside of my house watching outside at cold, as my vision, weather and grey
trees, but the thing is that I feel happy with it.
I'm happy when I notice the nature's little details (all of those leaves, branches, little insects that, in fact, live, and many other things) and important thing that I don't try to find them, it happens just because, nearly on every day basis.
I remember myself being intoxicated by the digital world: all of the network info media, social networks, it's mostly useless sweet information that says nothing. I can say that I have strong addiction to it, I understand it when I'm trying to get rid of it. Try not to use it for a week at least and you'll understand me. The greatest fact that you'll notice is that life doesn't stop. It's like going somewhere you don't know by train, it's scary to jump outside of it, but if you'll do it you'll see the world was seemed so fast moving that's blurred from the window, now it isn't that fast and it still exist(wow!) and continue to live and you can interact with it, notice the details that you couldn't see.
Well, there were my thoughts, I wish I could described them in English as I can In Russian. What books do you recommend to read to get used with literary English?