You sit with a beautiful Moscow autumn on the steps in anticipation of an important meeting. Two young baldbes pass by you, in love with each other’s ears. She is seventeen years old. He is not much more. She is with animal seriousness: “Did you like to chew cherry tar in childhood?!” He is a question to the question, laughing: “Is this a test?” The couple passes, and all meetings become unimportant, because waiting is much more important. And not on the steps in the center of Moscow you are sitting, but on a puppet -bug in the Odessa port, and not a fifth dozen to you, but seventeen. Life has been lived, because all young people know that in sevente life has already been lived, read as a half -child novel. All the deepest wounds have already been inflicted, they bleed and cause acute pain. And to the scars drawn by the canon of the dramaturgy of classicism – the trinity of time, place and action, is still far away. And it is still perfectly misunderstanding that all events occur throughout life, on the same planet and last exactly from birth to death …
“This is a test!” – You whisper yourself …
Author
Solomatina Tatyana Yuryevna
Publisher
AST, 2013
Series
Prose of Tatyana Solomatina
16+
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