Long story of one idiot. Read the book “The Story of One Man” online in full - Ilya Alekseev - MyBook

It is possible to translate the text.
Traducir el texto al español se puede aquí .
È possibile tradurre il testo all "italiano qui. Semplicemente inserisca il testo o il collegamento con il testo.
Den Text auf das Deutsche übersetzen es kann hier .
É possível traduzir o texto para a língua portuguesa aqui.
Traduire le texte on peut en français ici.
Käännettäväksi suomeksi kun liität tekstin pakkausnimike-kohdasta.
テキストをここの日本語に翻訳することが、できます 。単にテキストまたはテキストへのリンクを挿入してください。

Not long ago I went to the outskirts of Donetsk. An ordinary inspection trip, which promised to be tedious and painstaking. But for my efforts I was rewarded with a meeting with one person. A person is like a person, nothing unusual - a hard worker who built his life and the future of his children with his labor. Word for word, he told me about what he had to endure in the summer during the battles for Donetsk.

The DPR came to the village and set up a checkpoint at the entrance to it. And they told the locals that it would be like in Semyonovka (which is on the outskirts of Slavyansk), so whoever has the opportunity should better leave here. And those who live next to the checkpoint, do it quickly. The man figured out what all this was threatening and began to collect his things. Fortunately, the old mother lived on the other side of the village. This is certainly not the best option, but it’s better than living right next to a checkpoint. The militia asked to go to the summer kitchen to cook food, drink tea and stuff like that. The man did not object. It’s not that they were afraid of them or strongly supported them. No. He's just an ordinary hard worker who always tried to live by the rules. Therefore, since there is a war, since these people are here, it is not right to refuse them. A few days later he comes to visit his house. And what does he see? And he sees a broken window oh in the house. To which he declares - guys, this won’t work. Do you want to live? Here are the keys to the house - live, use what you want, but live like a human being. But they didn't care about that. Although he guessed about it, he realized it later. When for one day they left their checkpoint to build fortifications on the distant approaches to the village, he arrived and took everything he had time to load to his mother. This time he noticed more chaos and disorder in home. They were clearly practicing shooting in the barn. Complained to the commander. He says - you see, the majority here are drug addicts and fools, what can I do with them, who else would agree to fight if not them? The man decides to call hotline DPR and complain to them. There they answered him - what do you want - this is war!

Donetsk was defended, the militias left. The man went into his house to see what condition it was in. Luckily the house itself was intact. But inside... To say that it's a mess is to say nothing. The floor that was used to heat the stove was torn off, and a lot of furniture was broken, which also went into the firebox. Despite the fact that there was enough firewood in the barn for three winters. But they were untouched. In the basement (whoever has been to the villages knows that they are deep, with a gentle slope) the earthen steps were hewn down - because they were hiding from shelling. But these are minor things. Virtually all of the conservation was destroyed. What does it have to do with it! For example, a can of compote was opened with a bayonet, drank at most a quarter and was left there. And in this form, virtually all conservation. The man was indignant - I'm not greedy! If you want, eat and drink. But you opened it, eat this, and then open the next one. They opened everything and ate little. As in the proverb, if I don’t eat it, I’ll bite it. He took a sip from the glass and put it down! I had to throw everything away! But these are all flowers. We took two refrigerators and a freezer with us when we left. And in general, he says, the looting in the village was good. Who left the house - carpets, televisions, refrigerators, washing machines- everything was taken away from here. The guy is clearly not a dill person to be accused of anything, but he also looks at this government with great skepticism. And now he’s also been given an electricity bill, which was jacked up by the soldiers while they were living in the house.

In the end, I decide to find out who was there - locals or not. To which he answers me - there were Voronezh, Kursk, Slavic, Makeevsky and a couple of our locals.

Next, I tried to check his views, and therefore I say absolutely sincerely that the bottom of society is always the first to fight, that’s why it’s a civil war, that this is happening on both sides. To this he readily agrees:

There they rob, here they rob. My sister lives in Volnovakha. So she calls me and says - you have no idea what kind of chaos is going on here, what they are doing here. I can't talk to you much - I'm afraid. I’ll talk to you and throw away the card, I have your phone number in my notebook.

These are the defenders-liberators on both sides. This all reminds me very much civil war almost a hundred years ago. When both the Reds and the Whites massacred the civilian population. The Reds simply won and they became “good” and the Whites “bad”. If White had won, everything would have been the other way around. Now the situation is very similar. And, probably, historians will be able to dig up there when one of the parties strongly disliked the inhabitants of a certain region. But this does not change the essence.

Who else believes in ideals or thinks that such people could not rush through the population for the sake of a picture?

Or maybe this is our mission - to become a testing ground where the bottom of society will reduce its numbers...
But, comrade volunteers, if you are going to this war, then answer yourself the question - for what? And if you behave this way, don’t be surprised if they spit in your back. If you are not like that, then look around and think that because of people like these comrades, they might even spit on you...

All the best.

First there was heat, and then snow... So unexpectedly this woman burst into my life. Did I love her? This question will remain unanswered, and only my story can reveal the truth to you...

We met in the subway, she smiled at me, as if by accident, as if not at all... Goddess... she seemed exactly like that to me. But how often do you meet gods in subway tunnels? Yes, in her banal image of a city woman, worn out by worries and affairs, something divine was visible. It was as if she was waiting for something, some kind of turn in her divine destiny, as if she was waiting for me, me, so earthly, so vulgarly ordinary, so awkward and lonely, a simple man, who accidentally got on the same train...

No, I can't say anything about what she looked like. She was beautiful, that's all. Later, I found something new in her, unknown details of the image that revealed her soul, heart, thoughts, feelings... my... my...... my tenderness, my sadness...

I approached her, but I couldn’t say anything... the words didn’t make sense, I stood enchanted in front of this magical woman... She turned her gaze to me and froze...

We left the subway together... I followed her relentlessly, as if she had thrown an invisible leash around my neck... I tasted her scent... she was silent, so was I...

I don’t remember where we were going... and how I ended up on the other side of the city... She sat down on a bench - I timidly sat down next to her...

“Come to me,” she said suddenly, “I have tea with jasmine... do you like tea with jasmine?..”

I love…
She took my hand, but immediately let go:
- No need now, later...
She was worried, I could see. But he didn’t say anything... I just felt a trembling in her hand... and also... her hands... Such tender and soft, thin wrists... I followed her hands... She nervously tugged at the ring... on right hand...on the ring finger...

Why are you staring at me like that? – she said, closing the door behind us, “Not on me, on my hands....” But... excuse me... but look up!

I stared at her as if I had suddenly woken up...

Excuse me, are you... are you married?
- Yes…
She turned away and hurriedly retreated to the kitchen.
- Do you want some sugar?..
- Yes... no, no need... how do you like it?...
“With sugar,” she looked at me uncomprehendingly, “and that’s enough for me to “pump out”...

Fine.
We sat down and began to drink tea. Thirst tormented me, but she took a sip and put the cup down.

What is your name?
- Alexander... and you... you?..
- Faith. Well, Alexander, how do you like it with me? like?..

I finally looked back. And the kitchen is ordinary, and there is a table and chairs. How can she live in such “ordinariness”? everything is so monotonous... No, the apartment did not speak of wealth at all, it was more like a museum of old, shabby things... everything here was very modest, very gray...

So do you like it?
- Yes…
-Alexander, are you... are you rich? well... forgive me for coming so soon, I just see that you’re not used to this,” she looked around her “museum,” “my husband and I are moving soon... Well, moving, and all that... Well, you understand...

No, I really like it, and the style is so... interesting... peculiar... but... I like it...

I lied, I knew that I lied and I was ashamed. But I also knew that she was lying, that she would not have any move, and that she had been living here for a long time, and maybe even a very long time, and maybe she was destined to live like this all her life, and that she was just as ashamed, like me, but only me...

Let's go to the room... I'll turn on something... do you like watching movies?

Yes…
- But I can watch the same film a hundred times, and every time, as if for the first time, every time I find something new, like you, for example... Oh well, there’s no point...

She took my hand again and never let go. We sat on her time-worn sofa all day. We talked about everything: about the fact that there is nothing left to read, and that prices in stores are rising, and for some reason the flowers are withering (maybe they are missing something?..), and recently she saw a puppy under a bench in yard and almost took him home, and tomorrow again to work, and that she was tired of everything, but life is wonderful, which one cannot but agree with, if only mom would get better after a long cold, but winter is coming, and she needs to buy new boots ...

I went home inspired by new impressions. She had a soul, somehow I felt it. She was so open, so uniquely beautiful. Among the “glamorous novelties” of the female half, there would be no equal to her. “Silicon lips”, “silicone brains”, “silicone feelings” - all these components feminine essence modern beauty did not fit in with her image. She was too unreal, not the way I was used to seeing women, she was too natural... She was more like a heroine from black and white films.

I couldn't sleep a wink all night. I remembered my past, my parents, who gave me a dream of family happiness... I imagined her next to me, I imagined her as my beloved, my wife. Then it seemed to me that we were already old people, I saw our grandchildren... She still held my hand, her wrists were just as thin... her palms were just as tender...

How long did it take before morning came?.. I was in a hurry to see her again.

We met in the park. She was sitting by the fountain. Her long light brown hair was bathed in the light of the fading sun. Seeing me, she suddenly ran up and hugged me tightly.

Alexander, why did I dream about you? We just met, and I already fell in love... Or it just seems to me... Alexander... Sasha... Sasha!..

I don’t know... Maybe it should be like this...
- Didn’t you dream about me?.. You didn’t think about me at all, didn’t remember?..

No... I don’t dream at all...
Lied again... Why?! Why do lies fill my words so hauntingly? Maybe because I’m not used to such daring frankness? In a world where everyone constantly lies to each other, the truth seems like a delicacy. I used to outright lie at work, that I had everything under control, and that countless folders of “work paper” found their place in the list of completed tasks. I’m used to lying to my friends, saying that money doesn’t buy happiness, that I could do without it, and that working in a large trading company as a director of the sales department adds absolutely nothing to me except wasted nerves and time. I lie to my mother, who dreams so much about grandchildren, telling her that it is too early for me to start a family, that I need to first establish my career. But my career life has long been settled, and I’m no longer a boy, thirty-eight years old, whatever one may say...

We met for a whole week. Secretly. She called me, and I... rushed to the phone as if for salvation. I waited and suffered with anticipation. What will she say to me now, when I see her again?.. My whole life suddenly found new meaning. I was no longer afraid of losing freedom, which was once very dear to me. I was in a hurry with things, with work, to see her again, to touch those hands again, to look into those eyes again, to hear a voice so painfully familiar and dear to me. I began to think and feel differently. All past problems and worries began to seem empty and far-fetched to me compared to the experiences that I was experiencing now. The realization that I belonged to this woman with my heart and soul did not come to me right away. I began to think more often that perhaps we were not destined to be together, that she would not be able to leave her husband and the world to which she belongs. And then... does our relationship make sense?.. But I tried to drive these thoughts out of my consciousness. I tried to believe that real love exists, and maybe I found the one I’ve been looking for for years, and that you shouldn’t give up your happiness, even if it flashes like the twenty-first frame in a silent movie.

Autumn suddenly crept up, taking with it fallen leaves and heavy rains, and behind it, winter was preparing to come, creaking in the snowdrifts. Probably, we all somehow feel the approach of something new, some turning point in fate. The same feelings came over me when, unexpectedly for myself, I walked into a jewelry store. I stood in front of the display window for a long time and looked at it in fascination. wedding ring. “I have to... I have to change something. It's time to stop lying to yourself. I want her... I want... for her to belong only to me! Make an offer, and then... damn that “next”! She won't refuse me. And if she refuses... And if she refuses?!.. No, she loves me. After all, a person can’t help but love if I... love... Or not?.. Or did it all seem to me?.. And if it’s not love?.. And if it’s just like that?..” Thoughts flew one after another... And I still stood at the sparkling display window, like a boy getting ice cream...

She called at night. She said that she couldn’t sleep, that we definitely needed to meet tomorrow, and that she couldn’t continue to live like this, that she loved me, and couldn’t imagine life without me.

Morning. I stayed up all night, thinking about her words... She loves, loves, loves me! She herself said that she loves, and I... I don’t know... What nonsense! Of course, I love her, and there is no doubt... I closed my eyes and saw her: here she is standing in front of me... Her long light brown hair is gently caressed by the wind... her hands beckon me... her hands... her gentle hands, and so thin wrists... No, I can’t help but love her... My goddess, my woman...

“You came... I didn’t think you would come,” she said, looking sadly into my eyes.

I didn’t think so myself. But how could I not come, I... love her.

Of course, I came,” I repeated my thoughts, “How could I not come, Vera?” You... you wanted to talk?.. About what?.. - idiot! It's like I don't know what she wanted to talk about. She loves, and... but what "and"?

Yes... Sasha, Sasha.... Alexander... I... I can’t, that is, we can’t meet anymore... You... forgive me... but we are too different,” she turned away, “I don’t love you,” she said looking at me again, and I saw a drop of dew on on her cheek, another drop, another... no... it wasn’t dew, it was rain... rain of tears...

She threw herself on my neck, frantically kissing my face, she called me beloved, whispered to me that she could not do otherwise, that she could not leave her husband, her family, and that everything had already worked out for her, and nothing could be changed, and so that I forgive her, a fool, for these words, and that she will no longer be able to live, knowing that she is pushing away her love, her happiness, but it is necessary to live, because life is beautiful, which one cannot but agree with...

I was walking home. Indifferent faces flashed by, “silicone souls”, “silicone hearts”... no one knew that today the world had brought down its walls on me, that today fate laughed at my dreams... The first snow fell on my face in cold flakes, washing away the last vestiges of the past. And I was just walking home, clutching a golden ring of happiness in my hand... I wanted to give the happiness that I so lacked to the woman who...

Did I love her? This question will remain unanswered, and only my story can reveal the truth to you.

Long story of one idiot. It so happened that I got married early. I proposed out of love, I just realized that I only wanted to be with her. He was always fed and kind. She is economical, smart, takes care of both her body and her tongue, and is ready for anything in bed. Moreover, free of charge, she never demanded gratitude, and I didn’t even think that it was necessary, I took it for granted. And after 2 years I got tired of everything. The fact that the wife was the first and only played a role. In general, I changed it. I realized my mistake immediately; I felt disgusted with myself. I came home in the morning, my dear one, with her face swollen from tears, looked at me and understood everything without words. She didn’t make a fuss, didn’t reproach. She just said “be quiet and don’t even think about touching me,” that’s all. It was at that moment that I wanted to hug her like never before, I wanted to fall to my knees and ask for forgiveness. But I know her. She would see me as pathetic and just leave. And I couldn’t allow that. Then I lay down on our old sofa in the living room and decided that I would return her, no matter what it cost me. It was very difficult at first. I wasn't there for her. We lived together, but she cooked only for herself, washed only her own things, and naturally slept separately. I brought all the money into the house, never stayed late, and even cleaned on weekends, which had never happened before. Then he started making surprises for his wife. He didn’t bring it to her, but simply left it in a visible place. Flowers, sweets, movie tickets and other little things. At first she didn't even touch it. But a little later she began to put flowers in water, and occasionally took a couple of sweets for tea. It was like a balm for my soul, I patiently waited until she was ready to even just pay attention to me. And he waited. She started talking about everyday life, then started cooking, even accompanied her to work, as before. One day, with fear in his soul, he took her hand, and she did not pull it away. So we walked like schoolchildren, then she allowed us to kiss. After some time, she invited me to the common bed, saying that it was not the case that the wife and husband slept separately. And so it came to love. What a feeling... I kissed every toe on her feet, adored every centimeter of her beautiful body. And I felt such pleasure from this... I was truly happy from the thought that my wife was feeling good. Now everything is fine with us. I continue to give my beloved gifts for no reason, I am grateful to her only for the fact that she is still nearby. I arrived this evening tired, there was borscht on the table, and a shirt already ironed for tomorrow was hanging in the room. I’ll finish this post and go thank the best woman in the world.

18.12.2017 11:18

Save it to your wall

You can create a new account To come in

You introduced yourself as

- I am Anatoly Ivanovich Vasiliev, born in 1969. Served on Far East in the Khabarovsk Territory on the Chinese border. Then he joined his service... (stammers) a special police detachment... I went on business trips...

The man in the video looks straight into the camera as he introduces himself. He is a little rumpled, in dirty clothes, unsteady on his feet. Constantly stammers and speaks unclearly. It is clear that it is difficult for him to construct long sentences - his thoughts constantly “jump” and get lost, the man pauses in the middle of phrases, forgets words, and gets confused.

This is what Anatoly looked like during one of the first meetings with the project organizers... Photo: Screenshot from video

- None of this is easy. It turned out that he started drinking. Lost my family. That's it.

It’s hard to guess that the hero of the video in the past is not only a professional military man, but also a former athlete and coach, whose life at some point went downhill. “There are a lot of such stories about those who have sunk to the very bottom,” you say, “Why do we need another one?”, and I will answer you: because this one will have a happy ending.

Do you want to change your life? - asks the man holding the camera.

Yes, - we can say, for the first time in the entire video, Anatoly Ivanovich speaks with confidence. - Want. What should I do? I'm at a loss. I'm searching.

We will help you.

Anatoly’s interlocutor is the president of the regional Public Physical Education Organization “Fitness Boxing Federation of the Penza Region” Anton Ivanovich Maklakov. He and his colleague, executive director of the federation Andrei Vladimirovich Ryzhonkin, developed and became curators social project on the rehabilitation of persons with persistent alcoholic and drug addiction. Over a cup of tea in our editorial office, Anton and Andrey spoke in more detail about their initiative.

The project was born by chance. We met Anatoly Ivanovich on the street. Andrey knew him before, so when they met they started fooling around. Do you know there is such an exercise in boxing - “Shadowboxing”? That’s exactly what they started doing, and I immediately noticed that Anatoly Ivanovich had clearly been involved in martial arts before - the blow was delivered. Then the idea occurred to me that with the help of sports we could very well bring this person back to life again, “pull” him out of the quagmire, help him become a full-fledged citizen again.

Anton Ivanovich met personally with Anatoly Vasiliev, and together with Andrei Vladimirovich invited him to try to change his life - get rid of addiction, find a job, start earning money. Anatoly Ivanovich agreed.

He admitted that he had been waiting for salvation for a long time, waiting for some kind of sign,” said Anton Maklakov. - And then we came up and made such an offer. Then we checked him to see if he was really ready to change, whether it was just a momentary impulse. They took time, watched him, whether his interest remained. We met with him once a week, without giving us the opportunity to reschedule our visits. That is, they called and said, “We’ll meet there on Thursday at such and such a time,” then they arrived - and he was already standing there, waiting for us. Even heavy rains did not frighten him, and he came to every meeting we had. This became an indicator for us. We extended our hand to him and he grabbed it.

Anton and Andrey maintained a relationship with a monk of the Zhdanovsky Monastery. During a conversation with him, they came to the conclusion that for Anatoly’s full rehabilitation, medication alone would not be enough - after all, he would always be able to return to his bad habit when the course of treatment is completed. It was decided to develop the whole system in several stages.

The first and second stages - acquaintance, establishing relationships and motivation for rehabilitation - were already behind us. Next in line was a meeting with doctors from the Regional drug treatment clinic. The fact that Anatoly Ivanovich had previously been involved in sports partly helped him: neither alcohol nor eating waste from landfills could seriously undermine his health. When asked about delirium tremens, he answered honestly - he is afraid of it, but he has never had it. The treatment proceeded calmly, and very soon Anatoly was transferred to the ISHIM Drug Rehabilitation Center.

Even then we began to notice changes in him,” Anton shared. - If before he drew out his words very strongly and spoke somehow inhibited, then after treatment his speech became intelligible, his voice became more cheerful. There was enthusiasm. We're filming documentary about him. The story of one person. The story of thousands of the same people who became addicted to alcohol, lost their status, the meaning of life. They are forgotten about, and although television trumpets every day about how important it is to help others, in reality nothing is done. A dirty man is lying on the street, people pass by, stepping over him. No one will bend over and ask: is he even alive?

With Anton Ivanovich Maklakov Photo: Screenshot from video

He cured the body, the soul needs to be treated: after rehabilitation at ISHIM, Zhdanovsky is waiting for Anatoly monastery. There he will live, work, and pray. In the monastery, Anatoly will have the opportunity to be alone with himself, to sort out his feelings and thoughts.

In that the main objective our project is to display “beacons” in the soul. At the first meeting, Anatoly admitted that he was confused. He would be glad to change, but he does not know where to start, where to go and where to look for help. We want to sow the sprouts of hope, light, and love in his soul. We don’t know how long Anatoly will stay in the monastery. Maybe he will decide to stay there for the rest of his life - we do not exclude such a possibility. If he decides to return to worldly life, we will help him find a job,” Andrey noted.

Plans for the distant future include giving Anatoly the opportunity to conduct seminars for troubled teenagers. This makes sense: who, if not the person who managed to rise from the very bottom, will be able to tell the younger generation about how bad it is there, at this bottom.

We want to open people’s eyes,” Andrey noted. - You can't be indifferent. Most of us have housing, a stable job, eat well, and spend our free time on useless things: computers and gambling, shopping, something else - and we don’t need anything else. Pay attention to the world around you! Take ten minutes out of your schedule, look around, approach those who hang out at the nearest garbage dump, ask why they are there! Help at least one. Someone will say, “I tried, but it didn’t work.” So: “trying” and “doing” are different things. And believe me, no amount of money is worth helping someone.

Anatoly has more to come long haul to a new, bright life, but his story is the story of People with a capital M. People who didn't turn away in disgust at the sight of a man rummaging through a trash can. People who simply came up and extended their hand with a desire to help. And if each of us saved at least one, this world would become much kinder and brighter.

Editor's note: You can follow the progress of the project.

One man's story

Ilya Alekseev

Dedicated

My beloved beautiful N.

© Ilya Alekseev, 2017

ISBN 978-5-4485-4911-3

Created in the intellectual publishing system Ridero

THE CREATOR MADE US AND WE CREATED THE CREATOR

1. Alexander

It's already ten o'clock. I just left the house in the direction of the stop and did not have time to feel the rushing cold. In a few steps I reach a lonely blue stall, which marks a gathering place for sleepy townspeople. However, now there are almost no people at the stop, only an elderly lady and an early-rising alcoholic from a neighboring house, who crawled out into the street in search of a hangover after yesterday's revelry, which did not let me fall asleep yesterday until I closed the window.

A couple of minutes of waiting and a long white bus with route number “60” pulls up to the stop. I go into it, looking for the place ahead. It shakes less, so you can write your works relatively calmly. But now there is not a single worthy thought for a novel. Therefore, the only thing that remains for me is to look dreamily out the window, thinking about my own thoughts.

Multi-colored cars flash through the window, standing at the curb waiting for their owners’ black and white penguins; houses of the same type, built under an unknown general secretary of the USSR; people wandering through snow-white snow, ready to turn into inedible buckwheat porridge, because it’s already February 21st on the calendar. Spring is coming - make way for spring. And the south wind blows more and more often. In literature, spring is always beautiful and romantic, but if writers bothered to go outside their four walls, they would see all the true secrets breaking through the snow, and these are far from snowdrops.

I like to go into discussions about the twenty-first century. And it seems to me that romance today is, if not dead, then certainly in a coma. However, like each of us, I’m used to thinking that this doesn’t concern me, because it’s ME. And so it is in everything. However, many people like not to elevate, but to belittle their own dignity, to make themselves a great martyr, so that everyone would feel sorry for and humiliate themselves. But isn’t behind all the crucifixions and ascensions of one’s beloved one hidden the search for the true Self, not burdened by marriage with the outside world?

After two stops Andrei joins me. Broad-shouldered, tall guy with incredibly powerful legs. And the black down jacket makes him even more huge. His square features and his favorite perpetual frown can be misleading. It may seem that Andrei is an angry and unkind person, but if you get to know him better, he turns out to be kind and sympathetic. After all, I have known him since childhood. Even in the yard they were hitting bumps together when they rushed to protect the girls.

But Andrei did not always have a pompous frown on his face. It appeared that year when a friend was accepted into the local youth football team and had to move to live and study for a year at a boarding school on the other side of the city. Contrary to expectations, he was not made the team’s first goalkeeper, and he was not released often at all. A year later, Andrei miserably lost in physical fitness to the newcomer, which cannot be said by his physique. He didn’t want to be an eternal substitute, and the coaches weren’t eager to keep as many as three goalkeepers on the team. The result turned out to be such that by the age of twenty-two the guy graduated from the civil engineering university with me in the same group, studied in gym I’m already in my seventh year and completely inexperienced in love affairs, because I’ve given half my life to sports – my only love.

“Hey,” Andrey squeezes my hand tightly, sitting down next to me.

– I didn’t expect to see you. But what about sleep to grow? – Yawning and covering my mouth with my hand, I try to joke.

“So, to the second one,” maintaining my cheerful mood, my friend exposes an even row of his upper snow-white teeth.

I have always envied his wide white smile, because for some reason nature deprived me of such beauty due to unclear circumstances, but I hope someday I will get an answer to my question, but for now I have to be content with my crooked yellowish teeth.

– How are things going at the gym? - a question asked in a series of questions, so that, out of politeness to the interlocutor, not abruptly break off the conversation that has just begun, but smoothly, as if a stream is being dried up as a hooligan boy builds his dam of stones, to come to naught.

My question seemed to prick him in a sore spot with a needle and got him talking. Andrey, with his usual morning laziness, but at the same time with fervor, began to talk about how yesterday he went to the maximum in the bench press and lifted one hundred and thirty kilograms. I have no doubt that this is a huge weight and an equally significant achievement for him, but why kill himself like that? For what great purposes? Pick up a girl on the beach by flexing your muscles in front of her? But we are no longer at that age when beautiful male body worth its weight in gold. What is more important is having a car, an apartment and brains.

Our formal dialogue quickly fizzled out, as I had hoped. Andryukha puts headphones in his ears, and the Rammstein band screams so loudly that I can clearly hear all the words of their songs.

I turn away to look out the window, searching in the depths of my mind for a plot for a new book. I already had my first experience with writing, but, like teenage sex, it turned out to be painful and brought more dissatisfaction than pleasure. All because I was in too much of a hurry to tell everyone about him and for my haste I received a sharp slap in the face from the muse. However, what depth of thought was laid, but how mediocre everything turned out in reality. It is unlikely that I will ever be able to forgive myself for my excessive fussiness. Then from my pen came another work of sixty pages, written for the sake of... As a matter of fact, I myself don’t know why. I just stained the paper. It’s somehow sad to admit one mistake after another, but even though the goal is far away, the night is short and I’m so often thirsty at night, I still see the alluring sweet features of my dream and follow its light, overcoming my fear of becoming a moth.

The bus turns and the sharp gray features of Karl Marx Square are already visible through the window. It is unlikely that anyone would dare to call this square the pearl of our city, because no one thought of creating even the slightest architectural uniformity here, creating complete disgrace. The lower tier is a Soviet creation with glass storefronts implanted into them. The upper tier is not yet ready to be torn to pieces, so you can see the remains of a typical building. But the crown of the square, towering above it, is crowned by a twenty-story unfinished hotel, gaping with interfloor voids. If you go deeper into the square, you can find a tiny, dilapidated gray building called GUM “Russia”, taken in the grip of a multi-story modern shopping center"SunCity" and a new five-story hotel. Poor GUM is like a piece of coal embedded in uncut diamonds.

With a push on the shoulder I wake up Andrey, who has dozed off to the sound of strumming the guitar coming from his headphones.

“I’m not sleeping,” the friend responds, freeing one ear to hear me better.

We both rise and find ourselves in a traffic jam of people lined up in the aisle, also getting off at this stop.

– What do we have in pairs today? – Andryukha asks me, rubbing his eyes.

“Nothing interesting,” I answer him with a grin, remembering that today there are classes in “Gas Supply” and “Ventilation.” Besides, both lectures. – Gas and ventilation.

-Then why did I go today? – Andrey laughs. “I might as well sleep at home.”

We get off the buses to a crowd of sleepy penguins just like ourselves. We bump our shoulders and mentally grumble at the people slowly trailing ahead.

Crossing the road we came across the “Crystal” store. A two-story building built as if from nothing but black mirrors always evokes an ambiguous reaction in me. Depending on my mood, it can be positive or negative. Now, passing by it, I catch myself thinking that it would be a good story about Through the Looking Glass, but I’m afraid Lewis Carroll was ahead of me with his “Alice Through the Looking Glass,” but what’s stopping me from coming up with my own personal Through the Looking Glass?!

Half asleep, I jump out onto the dirty white snow with yellow spots, buttoning my jacket as I go. Chilly. I crane my neck to wrap myself deeper in my down jacket. Without desire, I wander towards the stop, looking with disgust at the fifty shades of gray that people are dressed in. They say that Siberians love winter, drink vodka and walk with bears on the street. But it’s worth looking at the people’s faces, frozen in one expression, like marble, while waiting for their bus, and it becomes clear that great love By winter we are not burning. And I only saw bears in the zoo and in the circus. What about vodka? Who doesn't drink it? Me, for example.