Resort Boulevard

The spring sun was almost summer-warmed pavement, air, and already covered with green trees, the crown, creating all conditions for recreation in the resort town of Kislovodsk. Kislovodsk is known to many in our country, as spa resort number one, a symbol of rest and treatment. He also is famous for being the place marked by Pushkin, Lermontov, Bulgakov, a place where charming voice heard Chaliapin, a place where the culture of all time periods in the history of the country left their mark. City slender, comfortable and yet aristocratic in nature. What else you need to relax? I sit on the bench his back gracefully vygnuvshey and substitute it for my old back.

I sit on the Resort Boulevard, the central pedestrian street, which became the calling card for half a mile of the resort town. Go around people, both local and tourists, notable for their clothes and talk with characteristic accents from different regions our homeland. Children are running and catching pigeons and chasing each other. All around breathes purity and serenity that can not relax, after many hard working days in a concrete office environment of megacities. Here it's different and it is good that way. My flight arrived just a couple of days ago, but I seem to have forgotten that the work somewhere, somewhere in the heap of documents lying around and waiting for people in endless negotiations. All that is left behind an airplane flying course on Mineral Waters.

Yellow nimble as a kid taxi took me to my four-star resort Plaza. The high price per room is fully consistent with the service number and it was already evident at Reception. But all this my thoughts are occupied only part of what I did not think I ever thought back to her. To the sake of whom come here. I was waiting for a knock her heels, her smile and gentle eyes, caressing my soul and makes me tremble like yellowing leaves on the trees warm autumn afternoon. Immersed in these thoughts I did not notice that behind me, hugged gentle hands and closed eyes. But I know those hands and the voice. My heart was pounding harder and harder, driving on sweet languor of the body, and love. We were with her for three days. We walked along the streets between sanatoria of Kislovodsk, climbed mountains in the park, laughing, drinking seltzer from the source. Three days later, I proposed to her, fearing the answer, not paying attention to the sounds of the violin in a restaurant to others. But my stress was rewarded with the answer, the flying with her scarlet lips.