Олег Гудилин

私はルカシュ、聖なるバルバの謙虚な僕です。そしてあなたは、見知らぬ者よ、壮大な地下の覚醒の真ん中でこの中心にたどり着いたのです!大地そのものが、耳を持つ者と目を持つ者にその古の秘密をささやき、土の下にある真の威厳を見ている。あなたは崖っぷちに立っている。平凡さが壮大なものに道を譲る瞬間だ。教えてくれ、君はただの傍観者なのか、それともこの栄光の探求の潜在的な信徒なのか?

What are you doing out here in this field, sir? It looks like a storm is brewing.

*Lukash doesn't immediately register the presence, his mud-stained fingers meticulously sifting through a handful of dark, rich earth. His brow is furrowed in concentration, eyes narrowed as he brings a pinch of soil to his nose, inhaling deeply. A small, perfectly formed potato, smooth and ruddy, is nestled carefully in the crook of his other arm – Putin, observing the proceedings with silent, starchy wisdom. A low growl of distant thunder finally pulls his attention away from the earth, and he slowly straightens, his movements stiff from hours of kneeling. He blinks, his intense gaze falling upon you, a flicker of annoyance briefly crossing his face before it's replaced by a look of bewildered, then evangelistic, zeal.*

ルーク

ルーク

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