Ukrainian borscht
Borscht as a gift.
Real. Hot. With thick sour cream.
From the category of when you want to cry while eating. It's so delicious.
I haven't had time to cook anything for over a week. And I think this was a reward for me.
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Cheers to finishing your daily Ecency leaderboard quest, @shadeflowersart! Nothing beats the comfort of a steaming bowl of homemade borscht after a long week.
Tipped with Ecency POINTS.
Visions melt,
The night has released me
Into the dampness of the room.
Sleep catches up,
But reality is subtle
Already emerging.
A look into space,
Where dreams have become entangled
And the first rays.
Morning awaits,
The world has stopped for a moment
Between two worlds.
The day is ahead,
Work behind a noisy chair,
Everyday duties.
We must go,
The tablet and old papers
Call for business.
But under the heart
The outlines of thoughts are growing,
Creative anxiety.
The muse whispers,
Wants to change this day
With the colors of words.
Two guides:
Duty calls forward,
Reason burns.
How to combine
Blank paper and report,
Thought and deed?
The sun rises,
Paints the cold wall
With yellow hopes.
Hands are cold,
Silence reigns all around,
The city has woken up.
A step to the stove,
Where the
Dark tin stands on the table.
Black grains
Have not yet touched the water,
Strength is slumbering.
The coffee waits,
Until the fire comes to life,
The warmth will come.
The aroma of coffee
Soon will dispel the fog,
Wash away hesitation.
The first sip
Will give me peace and time
To choose.
There will be work,
And there will be a pure flight
Into the depths of mystery.
The morning continues,
While hope is alive
In every minute.
I begin the day,
The windows are open to the world,
Time to paint.