[Sometime…]
КорневФА
Stuffy bus stopped on the bank of the river. Novosibirsk region, empty fields and black factories, electric mains, irrigating systems are behind me. Prudish and empty academic city, boring botanical garden with dry white roads, fantastic Obe sea with dirty brown water with very hot beaches, filled up the dust are behind me. Iskitim, Linevo, Berdsk – the native land of electric razor and the tape recorders and all this empty and infinite land are behind me.
We are standing on the river. Usual mangal and usual in these situations kebabs, splash of water and dark greens of pines. Hot day made all the faces are grey and similar to each other. Growing old women are gamboling around the table as young girls, tiresome professors are speaking grandiose toasts, lazy and indifferent driver, the ball is flashing in the evening sun rays.
The sky is whitish. Light smeared clouds are breaking behind the horizon. The old man’s going along the road, looking to the swimming people which are being moved by strong water. He’s laughing and shouting:
-Deeply!
He’s being tormented a flavor of over roasted meat, and he’s having a rest nearby the tumbledown tree.
I had met her before two months prior to this trip but I had begun walk with her in November. I was pulling pages from my notebook, writing letters and giving them to old woman with blind eyes and damp lips– she was her neighbour. Long frosty street was ideal for our walks. In dark and often empty cafes we’re drinking a vine and looking in different sides. Then we’re going by taxi and keeping silent in soft light of speedometers. Sometimes we’re going trough the area in the center of city, I was looking to the small groups of people and saying:
- Look, they’ll go to Novosibirsk this night. Sometime I also want to go to Novosibirsk. Simply so… It is very interesting…
And she was giving a nod of head to me and saying:
-Ye! It’s very interesting…
Then we had broken our relations. Why? It is not important… From this time I have a notebook without several pages, the answer, which was wrote by her hand, the memories about this trip – all that was saving the flavor of this time.
One big smeared cloud was creeping from the south. The wind began to touch the bushes and dark pine forest. Ripples was caressing the sand and washing off our traces. Still the sun was lighting a road, police and the houses of Talmenka. The old man went away. Someone cut himself the finger. All the people began lonelier. They was gathering all their things and leaving the glade. A long road was waiting them.
I’d met her in two months after this trip, but I’d begun walk with her in October. She was a teacher. We were smoking together, drinking beer and freezing in trams. We were going to disco and meeting grey empty morning. Sometimes we were going trough the area in the center of the city, I was looking to the small groups of people and saying:
-Look! They’ll go to Novosibirsk this night. Sometime I also want to go to Novosibirsk as well as them. Simply so… It’s very interesting…
And she was giving a nod of head to me and saying:
-Ye! It’s very interesting…
Then we had broken our relations. Why? It is not important… From this time I have a box, which was ashtray for us, heap of bottles, and also… somewhere… tumbledown tree… soft waves of the river, which were washing our traces…
We’re going along the road and big cloud was going too. Then there was a rain. Cars, red and white fires were being seen through a blur of muddy stream. The wood has absolutely turned black. The souls of old women can’t live without songs, and the singing wasn’t stopping in the bus. It was silent and sad, it was happy and loud, but more often it was hoarse and wrong.
I’d met her in two months after this trip, but I’d begun walk with her in September. We’re walking together, seeing video and eating bananas. I was embracing her; we’re going to her home by stuffy and close car, we’re going through the area in the center of the city, I was looking to the small groups of people and saying:
-Sometime I’ll go to Novosibirsk at night. Simply so… It’s very interesting…
-Pay travel, - the driver said.
And I was paying for two tickets. She was silent, the radio was playing, and badly closed door was creaking.
A pack of the time-table of lessons hangs on the wall. It hangs on the dark color wall. Calendar and that day, when the rainbow had stretched through the sky and we had returned to the sparkling city in blessed silence – are before my eyes.
Sometime I’ll put my notebook and old time-tables to the case and go to Novosibirsk at night. There is no sleeping in bus. The smells of onion and garlic are swimming in stuffy air. Any gypsies are chewing pies, bottles with mineral water are hissing. Yellow and white lights are carried past windows, and I’m recollecting those events that were really once. But in early morning there will be empty landscape and tiresome city.
