Аlone with yourself. Nikolay Lakutin
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the top of the powerful giants of rye…
… no, it's not what it is? Already one in the morning, and went I still wasn't eleven, it seems…
…aaaaaages… yeah, two hours are. No, well, it's on the one hand and not bad, it's better than I would stare into the TV box with some aggressive TV show, or, for example, prosazhival large bills in a nightclub with friends…
or friends. The echo of her friends to think better I would be there with them now well get drunk, and then fell to yanque, the Yankees have no harmful grandmother, then to Tamara, she makes me always happy to see night in polutropos condition and it is not an empty wallet…
…but again, by the afternoon of the next day, she will divorce me for the rest of the cash with these cautious requests characteristic of a modern girl with an endless mass of desires, waking up in the morning in the same bed with a non-distressed man…
… ndaaa, … what they after all, these girls … would spit on everything and would take for an hour someone from newcomers on the drunk road, Seryoga to me as the regular customer can even what discount issued…
…what a piece of shit I am. The girl just came to the city from the province, not God knows what winds brought her to the point, and I, a drunken Murlo, will also add to her life an hour of disappointment in this world…
…what misery, what crap, what a disappointment that I lay there thinking about all the creepy stuff instead of sleep, but how well it all began, the sunrise illuminates the top of the powerful giants of rye…
All right, two o'clock, sleep in either eye, take some air in the fresh air, breathe the cool night favorite wicked city…
Hastily dressed, threw on a warmer jacket, went down from the fourth floor on foot on a ladder as the Elevator for the night in the old manner disconnect, and escaped for a steel access door.
Well, it is, how clear the air, and the snow is blowing, like a fairy tale. No, as a child. In my childhood, God I'm last time so really happy this snowfall in childhood. I forgot that I love when sweeping large bunches of snow, because forward I begin to think about the inevitable traffic jams due to the cyclone and impassable courtyards, Parking lots. I forgot that I love the night because I have to hurry to work early in the morning. I forgot about such simple but irreplaceable pleasures of life, because I clogged my brain with all-round cares. How to get to work, how to execute a plan, how to pay loans, how to save money for another party and have fun from the heart. A really good I was never, nor one party, but each time was then really bad…
Wow, how sweeping, how to order moods, I now was that necessary, namely snowfall, and it is of such force that wanted to rip his cap, and lifting up his hands to shout to the world that I feel good…
…how cool, even smoke don't want to, although I, the first thing coming out of the house, always opened a fresh pack of "Java»…
… and there is no, quit Smoking all OK?? bear…
… right, I would even say – pull, but I said that I will not spoil this impression of smoke, so I won't…
… the guy said-the guy made!
… all the more that cigarettes remained homes on the bedside table…
"Hey, kid, good evening, can I bum a cigarette? No Smoking? That's right, that's good."
… well sweeps, as in childhood, the snow remained the same, remained the same impression, a sense of joy, a sense of celebration and carelessness, though it was much faster to pass, and I was different.
Okay, it's getting cold, like, and to work early, a moment of weakness has passed, went to bed.
***
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