[5 / 3 / 2]
Quoted By:
Confession of a Russian.
It was hell of a cold day in Siberia during year 2001 when I was born. A year of Golden Snake. Didn't bothered me much that this snake crawled that slow and inevitable but, boy, it was a surprise when I realized that it wasn't a golden one, but brown, for sure.
Don't remember much from back then. Lots of snow. Mother. Silhouette of a really tall man with nice red beard in the peaked black leather cap, looking down on me, burned into my memory. I wasn't even several years old, in a next year I will never see his face anymore, my father. Now he's gone.
Soon I will be wandering cluelessly on top of the sill, tripping clumsily around a window frame. Shit. Was it opened? Oh man. Is that it? Ah, no big deal, it's the first floor of a famous concrete mass-production sleeping block, and right there's a gigantic deep slough. Now it devouring me ferociously with blazing cold water pulsing around my body. For some reason I've forgot to wear my top-of-the-notch PJ's, so I was naked. Damn, it's wet.
Gladly there was some good folks around, they've tossed me right back into the window, into the hands of my grandma. Was that I hiking around, with your husband still alive last winter, checking that blocky red car? How's that? Oh, now there's no a single men in my family. I didn't knew until some moment why men weren't hanging around long enough in my family. Answer is: a tough working conditions, and a low quality of life. Interesting to note that people dying much faster especially when they're not loved, although there wasn't even a single harass or drama in all of the relationships of my kin. Paradox.
It was hell of a cold day in Siberia during year 2001 when I was born. A year of Golden Snake. Didn't bothered me much that this snake crawled that slow and inevitable but, boy, it was a surprise when I realized that it wasn't a golden one, but brown, for sure.
Don't remember much from back then. Lots of snow. Mother. Silhouette of a really tall man with nice red beard in the peaked black leather cap, looking down on me, burned into my memory. I wasn't even several years old, in a next year I will never see his face anymore, my father. Now he's gone.
Soon I will be wandering cluelessly on top of the sill, tripping clumsily around a window frame. Shit. Was it opened? Oh man. Is that it? Ah, no big deal, it's the first floor of a famous concrete mass-production sleeping block, and right there's a gigantic deep slough. Now it devouring me ferociously with blazing cold water pulsing around my body. For some reason I've forgot to wear my top-of-the-notch PJ's, so I was naked. Damn, it's wet.
Gladly there was some good folks around, they've tossed me right back into the window, into the hands of my grandma. Was that I hiking around, with your husband still alive last winter, checking that blocky red car? How's that? Oh, now there's no a single men in my family. I didn't knew until some moment why men weren't hanging around long enough in my family. Answer is: a tough working conditions, and a low quality of life. Interesting to note that people dying much faster especially when they're not loved, although there wasn't even a single harass or drama in all of the relationships of my kin. Paradox.
