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Kazhdyj chelovek v mire chego-to zhdet. Zhdet lifta, ochered´ v magazine, avtobusa, bogatstva, vyzdorovleniya, druga, nastoyashhuju ljubov´, ispolneniya zhelaniya. I chasto ljudi umirajut, tak i ne dozhdavshis´. A kto-to poluchaet svoe, no ne dorozhit, i bezdushno teryaet. I mozhet jeto zadumano svyshe, a mozhet, i net, mozhet, my sami vse portim, potomu chto so vremenem perestaem cenit´, a mozhet, my hotim ne togo. Nikto ne znaet otveta, no kazhduju minutu v mire kto-to teryaet, a kto-to obretaet.

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Net smysla govorit´ o proshlom i o svoih dostizheniyah, vazhno lish´ to, chto ty eshhe mozhesh´ postich´, ponyat´ i najti.

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