Friend! You know, since we both ended up here with you, let's think carefully now. What, brother, prompted you to come to this site? It seems to me, you already decided everything for yourself, even when you were only about to come here. Wait, waaiiit, don't interrupt. I believe that you suddenly very much wanted to read the names of little flowers, I believe it! I like them too. Beautiful... But I also believe that it's not just for the little flowers that you are grateful to those who gave them soil on this tochka io. Think again, friend. Let your aesthetic sense not fail you. Let's forget about the sorrows of journalism, and let's think broader about this. Should the house of one who wants to care for such beautiful flowers collapse? Should the house of one who tramples them stand forever? I sense how you already want to run away from me, but wait. Here we both are. Do we want these flowers to grow and strengthen and know about the sun, one for all, both here and there? Has it really rolled down from the sky forever? Both here and there. Is it good when there's no one to even turn on a grow light? If yes, then what's the point that I touch your eyes with words? In the darkness neither flowers grow, nor are there smiles, nor landscape, only fears swirl...