Translated from RU
I am climbing a staircase that leads straight into the clouds. The steps are soft, like fabric, and each one has a slight spring to it.
Paper airplanes flutter around me. Each one bears the same word — "return."
I keep walking until I notice that the staircase no longer goes up but spirals around.
A sun appears above me, but it shines with coldness.
I realize that this entire sky is just a vast mirror, and in the reflection, I am standing still.
There is no staircase.
Only the sky.
