- "Of course not, of course not, of course not! I deleted all the files, all the pictures, all the ... I did everything, everything, all this document says!"
A swarthy little man in his thirties, balding but not without charm, was actively gesticulating as he explained the matter to a petite woman he shared a cafe table with. The paper they huddled over must have been of great importance to him for he often raised his voice, forgetting the presence of others around him, and his look kept bouncing between the document and the woman's face. The woman said something quietly.
- "Nothing, nothing, I did nothing! Absolutely nothing! In the history of copyrights there has never been a greater nonsense, greater accusation!"
He was springy, one moment shrinking in a posture of self-defence, and another shooting his body forward, his long hairy arms up in the air, swooping on the woman like an eagle. His English grammar was very good but from his colourful accent one could guess his Greek or Cypriot origin.
- "But why is she complaining then?" the woman said, studying the paper attentively.
- "Because she's crazy! Crazy! God sees, I am innocent! I have a gallery. We had a contract. I did everything, everything! And she's crazy! Completely crazy! And now she wants money!"
- "But you don't have to sign this. My experience as a lawyer tells me there's nothing she can do with it," and the woman paused in reflection.
- "Of course not! Of course not!" the man blurted out and searched her eyes for any indication of "although" or "however". Then, relieved, he quickly added "My gallery. You should come and see it. You'll like it. If there's anything that catches your attention ... I am sure we can agree ..." and all his disquiet and anxiety melted into a broad, comfortable smile as he leant back in his chair. And then, apparently finding himself in his element, he touched her elbow gently, "More coffee? Tea? Beer? Wine? Only a second! No problem! No problem!", and he sprang to his feet and ran to the cashier's.
Жизнь меня к похоронам
Приучила понемногу.
Соблюдаем, слава богу,
Очередность по годам.
Но ровесница моя,
Спутница моя былая,
Отошла, не соблюдая
Зыбких правил бытия.
Несколько никчемных роз
Я принес на отпеванье,
Ложное воспоминанье
Вместе с розами принес.
Будто мы невесть куда
Едем с нею на трамвае,
И нисходит дождевая
Радуга на провода.
И при желтых фонарях
В семицветном оперенье
Слезы счастья на мгновенье
Загорятся на глазах,
И щека еще влажна,
И рука еще прохладна,
И она еще так жадно
В жизнь и счастье влюблена.
В морге млечный свет лежит
На серебряном глазете,
И, за эту смерть в ответе,
Совесть плачет и дрожит,
Тщетно силясь хоть чуть-чуть
Сдвинуть маску восковую
И огласку роковую
Жгучей солью захлестнуть.
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Дизайн: Юлия Кривицкая
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