I woke up and breathed a sigh of relief…
What a dream I had! A lot of stories simultaneously, and the feeling that my dream was broadcast from different video channels…
First a falling plane at Chicago city airport. It fell so slowly that it flew exactly between two skyscrapers… One wing was broken on the asphalt, the other was directed towards the sky. It seemed that all the passengers survived. I remember in a dream I thought: «Why do they show me all this?…»
But someone behind the scenes said that all this was only a preview or a delayed disaster, a rehearsal… Then I saw myself walking around Belgrade downtown. Old trams overtook me, ringing when making a turn. I was going to the hotel, but instead I found myself in a women's shoe store.
I looked around, but in vain. There were no other shoes except black, of different style.
Then I wandered along the cobblestones until I ended up in Izmailovo. I bought hot wings at KFC and beer in a pavilion next to the hotel, and went to my room…
Number 2323.
Although it was a dream, before waking up, I thought: «What the hell!»
At home, quickly collecting my travel bag, I went down to the first floor and asked the guard to keep all my correspondence until I return, if there would be one.
«Have a good rest, Tanya! You are so pale!» Said Aunt Zoe, our permanent guard.
Time passed quickly in Moscow, and at night I had a flight to Croatia.
Boeing 737, about 180 passengers. At the reception, I asked for the 14th or 15th row. I love when the distance between the seats is greater, after all, it's near to emergency exit. We took off fine, gained altitude, and the whole flight went well.
We flew up to Dubrovnik. The captain announced that the plane was completely ready for a descent…
We were going down, and I could swear I already saw the tops of the trees and the signal lights of the landing strip, when suddenly the plane soared up into the sky again. The city flashed invitingly with the lights of high houses and a dotted line of bright lanterns that seemed to be curves of expressways.
Our plane, desperately flapping its wings, tried to cope with strong gusts of wind and, making another circle, began to descend again, but this time directly to the lane. When the chassis touched the ground, I felt the seat belt tighten, and leaned forward…
How many times have I said prayers while we were landing and before the engines stopped?
I said the Lord's prayer probably a hundred times, and another hundred was a prayer to the Virgin… I think that no one on board even thought about it.
I prayed for everyone. I always feel when the situation is abnormal… For some reason, I am «fortunate» in this sort of things.
«Dear passengers, this is board commander. We landed at the airport of Dubrovnik. The weather is great, plus 26 degrees. I wish you a pleasant stay and thank you for using the services of our airline. The crew hopes that in the future you will choose our company…»
«Yeah!..»
«Ladies and Gentlemen, we are…» the commander continued his greeting in other language.
I felt a thin stream of icy sweat on my spine. Heck! It seems I crossed the line again!
I took a taxi and drove up to the hotel, settled in the room…
My brain was gone! I looked out and stared at the door.
Number 2323.
What could I say? Doremi was right, there are no accidents, everything in the world is played out on notes!
That's it. I need to distract myself… I turned on the TV. There was news…
When I left the shower, the correspondent shared the latest news about the crash of a Boeing 737 over the Alps a few hours ago…
I froze, unable to move. Doremi was right again! The mirror theory worked! I begged for life for the passengers of our Boeing, but the boomerang of death was launched and hit another plane… Perhaps there was not a single person who could fight the curse so fiercely, constantly turning to God?
Or I was very lucky today…
I went down to the bar and ordered coffee with cognac. Then I dialed Eva's number…
Eva's diary:
June 23, 2002.
Sunday.
Mom says medical school is not for me.
And since Taska and I were born on April 23, we are obliged to write poetry and study philology…
So what if Shakespeare was born on April 23?[3]
Poems… Poetry is not profitable! I don't think you can earn a living with poetry, rather the opposite…: —))
Although Taska writes something and then hides it, since she was a child!
That is nonsense!
I went up to my room and called Eva's home, because her mobile phone was unavailable:
«Hello…»
«Is Eva at home?» I asked, without any hope.
«No. She is with the children at the rink today. Will be in a couple of hours. Tanyusha, is that you?» answered Igor, Eva's husband, in his most casual voice.
And again I was indignant… How can one be so restrained with the occupation he had? If I were a pathologist, I would enjoy every manifestation of life… Although, probably, every profession has its own distortions.
«That's me.»
«Why so gloomy, dear?» He asked.
«Listen, Igor Leonidovich, I'm really sick. I don't even know whether to tell you or to leave it…»
«Leave it. I'm telling you! Yes, and go to bed. You know, my girl, morning is wiser than the evening!»
Igor seemed to be smiling. I smiled at him too.
But no! I just tried to smile back, but my strength somehow suddenly left me. I slowly walked over to the mirror and removed the hoop earrings.
Then I pulled off my jeans and threw a worn top. I fluffed the pillow and fell asleep.
The last thought that flickered in my blurred mind was: «Thank God I'm alive!»
Morning always comes of a sudden…
First there is night, night and darkness… And suddenly, cannonades of sounds explode at once: the sound of a tram, the howling of the wind, the rustle of car tires… The head is buzzing, but you can raise it.
God, how could I become so limp! I opened the window. Morning burst into my room with a cascade of unusual sounds and smells. It smelled of sea and flowers. An amazing cocktail of incredible freshness and triumph of nature.
It seemed that the Universe had long ago forgiven me for yesterday's weakness and was already preparing the most fantastic adventures. I only had to show a hint of interest. But…
I went to the mirror.
The mirror obviously flattered me: no dark circles under my eyes, no bruising on my face. Like an innocent baby! I looked closely…
You are old, mirror! Just like I love. I love to look in slightly unclear mirrors like this one. My face looks as if covered with an invisible film of time and acquires some inexplicable radiance coming from within… Either the soul, as I believe, or the mirror itself, which is also quite likely.
Winking at myself in the mirror, I unpacked my suitcase and chose a dark blue gauze dress. It was pretty cool, and it was perfect for the first outing in the city.
That day I planned only a walk and a trip to the Aquarium. Doremi talked my ears off, talking about his last year's impressions, and took my word that it was on my first day in Dubrovnik that I would go straight there and report back online.
Doremi, of course, had his own oddities, but this did not compare with his merits. Therefore, I did not complain. If he wanted me to be in the Aquarium, well, so be it!
As soon as I gathered my hair in a bun, the phone vibrated:
«Why didn't you call back yesterday?» Eva asked, trying to sound serious, but I felt she was smiling.
«Well, I'm sorry. I got nervous. That damn plane barely landed on the second attempt,» I replied.
«Typical you! Flew somewhere again. Where are you this time?»
«I'm in Dubrovnik! Didn't I tell you? Well this was my dream since last year!» I exclaimed.
«Don't forget to bring me a magnet! When are you going back?» My sister asked.
«I'm planning to go to Spain for a short while… But I will be home in two weeks.»
«Have a great time there!»
«Roger that!» I closed the door and headed for the elevator.
Eva's diary:
November 23, 2003.
Sunday.
It's 1 a. m.!
Mom just went to bed…
This histo[4] will drive me crazy!
It's good that mom is so pitiful. I gotta kiss her tomorrow.
We spent the whole evening drawing cartilage and bone tissues!
I didn't expect mom having such a talent…: —))
Pasha said she could draw a map.
Pasha's mother arrived at the November holidays and also helped him draw connective tissues!
That's it!
I'm going to bed.
The most remarkable thing that, without a doubt, makes the morning good, is a cup of the right black coffee. Thanks to my student mate Olga, I acquired this good habit and stick to it until now, especially on vacation.
There's also another habit which is not that good… After the first meeting with Eve, I started wearing heels. Even in paving stones of an unfamiliar country. It's terribly inconvenient, but I can't do anything about it.
Three years ago, when I was on a 12-hour walking tour of Amsterdam, although with a 2-hour sunset from the tavern, I was almost dead on my feet, but I didn't take off my stiletto ankle boots. However, late at night, waiting for the bus, for the last half hour I was literally clinging to the hand of Dmitry Sokolov, a young guy from Krasnodar, a beginner and a very talented poet, who also arrived in the capital of the Netherlands that day…
Now my heels gave a soft knock at an unfamiliar street of Dubrovnik. I walked and looked for a sign of some decent cafe for locals, not for tourists like me.
I opened the door of a small coffee shop after evaluating the nice smell emanating from it and floating in the air, like a genie escaping from a jug… Like ether. Almost tangible and thick.
Strange thing…
I wonder if anyone except me and psychologists pay attention to the fact that men visit cafes in the morning to have a cup of coffee?
It was pretty early. They were not hurrying anywhere, sitting and watching the news on tablets. Of course there were eccentrics reading newspapers, but they were older.
A kind of testosterone parade.
This is as true as the fact that in the morning it is difficult to notice the same number of women with a cup of coffee in their hands…
As for men, here they are! Calm and self-satisfied. I do not understand why males do not like to drink coffee in the morning at home…
After all, are they all alone?
Or is this because in the morning they are as relaxed as possible and should not show their dignity to anyone or prove their significance…
I don't know.
I just like to watch. They definitely don't understand that this is my favorite part of the morning in another country! I collect impressions. And then I compare it with past observations. It can be very funny.
I ordered a double Americano and a chocolate muffin. Enjoying this morning, coffee and company, I felt an incredible pleasure from life, the fruits of civilization and, anticipating a wonderful tour, smiled at my thoughts, sitting at the last table of a small coffee shop.
Having estimated that Doremi woke up, I sent him a picture on Instagram. Then I looked at my route. It turned out that the Aquarium was a kilometer away. I could do that…
I stood up, finished my coffee and bought a bottle of water so that I could leisurely set off to admire the marine creatures…
Morning had just begun. Cool. Rare passerbys smiled to me. I smiled back at them.
And there was the Aquarium.
In summer it was open from nine to twenty-one, and you could take your time looking at eels, tuna, breams and mullets, maragotas, scorpion fish, lobsters and sea turtles…
I wonder who was the first to think that such a museum can be placed in the medieval fortress of St. John? It turns out to be two in one!
A stone gallery, a fairly wide corridor…
Aquariums were installed in the walls, probably not less than thirty of them. Fish: large and not that large, constantly chatting, opening their mouths wide, and each time sincerely amazed when people for some reason throw coins into the outdoor Aquarium pool. I also could not resist and threw a metal ten cent into the water. It fell next to the puzzled turtle, which flinched, blinked or winked at me with the lower eyelid, and then, as if nothing had happened, slowly rubbed its eye with its front paw…
«Wow!» I thought, «can you do that!»
As soon as I got out to breathe some fresh air, I noticed Doremi sitting on the entrance steps and waiting for someone, constantly looking at his favorite Swiss Mondaine[5] watch.
Really, Doremi?!
Eva's diary:
May 23, 2004.
Sunday.
Our rector repeats the same thing…
«If you finish your third year, you can consider yourself PhDs!»
In the meantime, no clubs and discos! Nothing but studying…
Easy to say!
Pharma[6] is the death of fascism!
How can someone remember all this: hybridodemirunatazine, for example.
And this is just a new drug against sclerosis…
February 23, 2014.
Sunday.
Lord, why didn't you give me Taska's brains?
Or rather, why didn't you divide our brains equally?
My dear little sister never gets distracted by all the fake stuff and does not even try to please the whole of humanity…
Forget humanity! Does she even love herself?
Well, no. She probably still loves herself, but does not care about how she looks, and what others think of her. As for me, a broken nail is a tragedy of the day! I can cry all evening because of a strange look or a seemingly cold intonation of my husband or boss.
Taska is reasonable.
Moreover, she reasons sensibly. And at some point, she can refuse everything, because she believes that these are not the options. And then she patiently waits for the stars to come together in the correct sequence to promise her something for which, perhaps, it was worth waiting so long… After all, if you think about it, we all feel different.
I've always believed that the expression «Studying the world through senses» belongs to Immanuel Kant…
But no!
It turns out that Epicurus spoke about this in the third century ВС!
For some people, the world is just a decoration for their own game. Or, like Epicurus said:
«Some prepare their livelihoods for their entire lives…»
The pompous and egoistic Narcissus directed all his abilities and skills only toward the achievement of one goal: creating maximum comfort for his own living in this favorable world…
He simply didn't care about what other small characters feel in this performance.
But nature takes revenge on such people, cruelly robbing them of sensations, making them flat and blurry like reflections in the water…
They always lack the volume and colors, and throughout their lives they are haunted by subtle and eluded memories of smells and sensations from childhood, when the soul still remembered something else…
«It is better to endure some suffering in order to enjoy great pleasures; it's useful to refrain from certain pleasures so as not to endure more severe suffering…» This aphorism is also taken from Epicurus philosophy.
But sensitive creatures like Taska see the world differently.
It shines with billions of faces and shades, filled with magical sounds. You can go crazy trying to describe this beauty, each time picking up some exquisite metaphors and comparisons.
Taska manages to do that.
She manages to do that without much anguish and effort. As easy as breathing. I promised her to publish a poetry collection, but she waived my words aside… She does not have the courage to declare herself, or she simply does not attach much importance to what she writes…
But I am delighted!
Let's take a category like pain…
How can you describe in unusual words or, resorting to specific terminology, in a way that it sounds like poetry? Quite difficult.
My temples are throbbing with pain
like poles and like expectation:
it's end or beginning… in vain
don't seek for a justification…
My temples explode, but I
I grab my head with my hands
I feel it now with my skin
This rampant tide that enhance…
It starts filling entire world
And even the world's reflection.
I can't remember a word…
But I feel it coming in my direction…
Now my temples seems to freeze
and the pain subsides in an instant…
But the worlds seem to know
that the pain is always persistent…
It hurts so much
To be a captive bird:
Left in cage
Without saying a word;
It's ephemeral
But it leads you astray…
You can fly out
But you never fly away…
The sea of pain, so furious and surging
Made up of desperate words that turn to emptiness…
I don't know where all this pain's emerging
It burns my lips to tears that I suppress.
But now I've got companion to guide
The one I met in my own darkest depths…
For all the rains we'll find a place to hide,
My hope's the only thing that I have left…
What else can I say?
Taska is an expert!
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