life on the ship

Having put two chairs by a small lake in an equally picturesque place, we still decided to talk. It would be more symbolic to take the boat of Grigory Valentinovich (an avid fisherman of the village, which was located exactly behind a small hill behind our old chairs, the legs of which now and then sank almost to the middle into the soft, cooled from the midday heat, sand). They appeared here for unknown reasons, maybe they were thrown away, but someone took pity and decided to leave them near the shore. If anything, it's about chairs. Although the plot is painfully similar to ours. We appeared out of nowhere, probably someone needed us to be here. Symbolically: the cracked brown paint on the backs of the chairs is like our cracked trust in each other. Just like them: over the years. We are sitting, a light wind blows over us, the water is a little agitated, which makes the fishing boat sway slightly, and its oars creak with movement. There is no excitement in us, only the fatigue of time spent together.