In the childhood liked to watch Torit road brook along the dusty pavement. Were taken from the water? Whether on a hot day living in an Annex at the entrance to our quiet courtyard in Eropkinskiy pereulok uncle John began to wash his captured German motorcycle. Whether another neighbor’s yard, the woman attracting, after cleaning splashed a bucket of muddy moisture on the lawn. And here’s a brook, not knowing what new power and water to draw him nowhere, quickly ran forward.
Surprised by his ability to choose the most convenient direction. In vain were the efforts, and near the streamlet the kids going to help him draw a stick route and guide on a whim this way: trickle understood the terrain better than us and we do not believe our prompts.
memories of the brook suggests those channels that choose to live a life — a real, real, not the one that you require from the stands. Alive, not illusory, reality is better versed on the terrain and selects the most convenient and the shortest way to the goals she puts in front of him.
Dry law
does Not escape from the memory image of the seller, torgasheva vodka in a small shop near Zubovskaya square, is now in this room is a trendy lounge. It was a time of attempts to introduce prohibition. I have defended a two-hour queue and approaching the counter is multiplied in the head more grandiose plans: take five, no, six, no, ten bottles to subsequent month to suffer a debilitating nervous in the crush.
no different that the seller is a young guy with a mustache on the wide face, but the facial expressions that accompanied the request addressed to him, requests, wishes, prayers, better than any words commented on his attitude. Sense of humor and artistic talent was outstanding. Well, the grimace transformed his face when I said take a box of alcohol. The disarming humility with which he threw up his hands, like an insect helplessly raised his legs, caused laughter not just me. He immediately made it clear that folds, surrenders in front of such a large-scale approach to solving the problem. And was dragged out of the back of the iron hook that box, although most people mavchine behind me rustled in fear that the products they’re after my bulk purchase is not enough.
What can this non-fading from the consciousness to do? He continues to exist in my life from time to time to swim out of the depths of the past — this casual, bright, unique type.
Merciless old age
Another is not leaving the memory of a little later time, as they say, another story — in this case, the mention of the Opera is appropriate since one of the luxurious concerts arrived in the Austrian capital figures of Russian art was held in Starinom the building of the Vienna Opera house. It was spring. The guests came from Russia so much that places in Vienna’s hotels is not enough. Two full planes: actors, artists, writers, even a strip girl, which was made in the local “Moulin Rouge”… Therefore, the individual is not too popular and not controversial representatives of the world of culture sent for publication in the suburban motels and boarding houses, where sbagrivayut on dozhivanie elderly relatives, young egoists who have no time or reluctant to care for the ancestors. In a boarding house, improved version of our home I was. Took me there late in the evening, I did not realize anywhere. And when morning came down to Breakfast, was amazed by the abundance of twisted gray semi-invalid in a queue for porridge and coffee. Yes, there the Breakfast buffet left much to be desired… while eating, I saw the old man a small increase in training pants strange, antediluvian specimen — ski, swollen trousers thick trousers, covering the ankle of rubber and crept on shoes kind of like the bag… That was a pretty clever outfit. Standing near the dish with boiled eggs, man clever, elusive to the eyes of personnel movement — despite the fact that his hands were visibly shaking, maybe it was beginning of Parkinson — pulling the elastic on the waistband, lowered white boiled eggs in my pants. Tight tight bottom gum did not allow them to fall to the floor.
What made that pushed him in the well-fed prosperous Austria — petty theft? Hardly poverty. Then what is the reason? Valid hunger and poverty of the local diet? Senile, characteristic for old age hoarding? Exorbitant (also common to people with brain disorders) appetite? Or is he by nature was a kleptomaniac?
Since the man — a symbol, an emblem of old age, his bald spot in age spots, his tremor and trousers afraid of the horror that can overtake everyone.
Lush friendship of peoples
In Baku prepared a magnificent conference with the lush “Friendship of peoples — friendship of the literature.” Said theme look up at the Heydar. Aliyev. He tried to jump from the first secretaries of the Communist party of Azerbaijan — the heads of state level, which soon happened: was seen exalted and invited to the capital of the USSR in the high post.
From Moscow to the conference at the same time, with a difference of a half an hour, flew two filled with writers of the aircraft. In the first, and where was I (the correspondent of “Literary newspaper”), has grouped the smaller people in the second followed by the authorities. I’ll tell you: at that day the second plane arrived in the capital of Azerbaijan: mechanics time on earth, discovered flew into the engine the bird. If the discovery took place in the air, the domestic literature would have lost a huge time onthread going hard zadruzhitsya masters of the pen. In Baku about the incident did not know — did not know who and what kind of plane is flying, therefore, hardly our ship landed, girls in national costumes, on the airfield, started dancing, guests were treated with fruits and Oriental sweets from silver trays.
We drove to the hotel, settled in the rooms, in the evening in half-empty hall showed the ballet “the Thousand and one nights” (the next day, he repeated for the rest of you arrived). After the ballet, returning to the hotel, went to dinner, the Tables in the hotel restaurant was large and on small tables, examples huddled close to the columns, lined up bottles of vodka, cognac, wine. Festivities ran late. People went from table to table, at the end of the fun I had left in the hall alone. The bill, which was brought by the waiter, made cold. Fortunately, there was enough money. I gave almost all expenses.
the Next morning arrived Latish colleagues, and the opening of the conference took place. A report on friendship in literature made Geyder Aliyev. Has not done without overlays: put on the stage emblem of the meeting did not meet that which was planning to print in the “Litgazeta”. I was quickly dispatched to call to Moscow. When I stood up and went to the door present in the room and on the stage looked at me with huge eyes. And was on duty near the door on the outer side of the guards did not let me back. In the press center for journalists ‘ group “LG” shouted unacceptable to leave when playing the head of the Republic. (The next day, wanting to endorse the text of the speech of the President, I went backstage and, inexplicably passing the guard, approached him. Now he looked at me with wide open eyes, immediately ran up to me, pushed back, and again, and the press center was explaining to me that there are special helpers, they need to pass the necessary papers.)
a break In the meeting were taken to the hotel for lunch. Behind a restaurant table, I sat opposite the poet from Lipetsk Svetlana Macsen.
— Andrew, well, we’re one drink? she asked.
I was thinking in my pocket jingled change. However, there was a ten-dollar bill. The socialist price, even the food, two glasses was enough. I went to the neighbors on the table
would you like to join?
All shook their heads.
— We also in the evening session.
We Macsen drank, She said,
how about another one?
I dozakazat
Well, God loves a Trinity, — said Svetlana.
— In which case I will add some money — he warned me.
And called the waiter. Asked for the bill. He cordially smiled.
the Conference began. Any calculations.
I had to see the faces who sat us at a table of writers. We Macsen and giggled. Already z��Kaneva dessert, people suddenly became strangely hesitant.
— Can really drink?.. What to the conference? One other drink will not prevent.
For the remaining days I spent in the restaurant a dime, Watered, and fed — khalyavnykh, the only inconvenience was that the bottles on the table did not put, every time we had to call the waiter, he came and poured. Too often, the call was awkward. But we invented the trick. Came early, sat at an empty table with two or three and say:
Our friends on the way, pour in all the glasses!
And soon repeated the order:
What our friends are late… pour until…
Swept a week… It was during this conference when the participants were transported to all parts of the Republic that they saw first-hand the achievements of labor of Azerbaijan, and then told about it in his works (which I now do), a photojournalist Alexander Karzanova in a stuffy train car was born immortal hangover impromptu:
— Now would be vodka is cosmetic, soap dishes…
Particularly strong, memorable impression on that trip made me a “living pictures” from the poem of Alisher Navoi, when the bus route on the lawn, on a street corner was found frozen in various poses people, depicting scenes from the works of classic literature.
this Is the last day. Or rather the last morning. Before the conference closed, everyone went home and the last time had Breakfast at a favorite restaurant. Everywhere was heard the confused and weary, but made the usual cries.
— Here! Waiter! More booze!
do Not drink, probably just me: upon arrival I had to take in the room a report on the event held in the plane I was supposed to work…
Interrupting a prolonged Breakfast announced it was time to go to the airport, buses are waiting. People began to rise from the table.
Polite smiling waiters did not want anyone to produce:
— the Conference ended. You have to pay.
they were speechless. Silence. Those confused faces not to forget.
I was avenged.
