the nineteenth year, an initiative group came to us, these were representatives of the quild club volozhki-minskye author of the idea of ​​​​this festival was natalya borisovna gagarina, who then represented the russian country, and it was originally planned that the festival would be belarusian- russian authors, textile artists from both countries will show their works, but however, as soon as we announced that there would be such a festival, we began to accept applications. straightaway applications from different countries began to arrive from the first year, the festival immediately became international, the idea of ​​the festival was to combine the works of artists and non-professionals in one exhibition space, in one forum, why the festival is named textile bouquet, this is such an interpretation , that just like in a bouquet of wildflowers, you may also find some modest little flower here, but as we say, you may also find a simply large one. special education, since last year we conducted such an experiment, we allowed participation in the children's festival, that is, children's works, ch

alexandria. knows that such stars are only here, sunny day, clouds in the shadow, life with the volozhkiss is in the morning, the wounds are dewy, geta mayo, that is, what it is, navat fall in gloom, vigilant beginnings and distance from new maras. only here there are such dawns, and the vine wounds are impenetrable, only here there is crap living here, and only here are the family members of the household, only here is my sister’s mother, only here is my brother’s bread himself. we, sons, who are the sirs above us, neva skhil zanelami vuslami, krok and tsyabe, krok and me, at times the most matt, language and bread, words of may, dear first. everything that was, my forest, yours, the hell of hell, this earth, the vastness of may, which is not forgotten, only there are such dawns and pine mornings. unpainted, only here life of the krynіtstsya, and szyazhynki relatives from the dzyatstіnstvo. only here is my sister’s mother, only here is my brother, the bread itself, the sun, what are the sirs, above us, the sky is covered with veils. only here there are such dawns, and the vine wounds ar