Wishbone

A dry, well-like silence after a blow of fate - when all the talismans of the world suddenly prove useless. No clovers, no rabbit's feet, no coins at the bottom of the bucket - only wet eyes stubbornly filling with tears. Love here sounds like a jackpot won and immediately lost: it shone with gold, but only a bag of coal remained in your hands. Simple, rustic imagery - about straw hats, empty beds and broken ‘lucky’ bones. And in this bitter humour lies the truth: sometimes all the luck in life is packed into one person.