Everything will pass: Is it true that time heals
Text: Sonya Margulis
I'm walking along the boulevard and listen to Cole Porter. In white headphones, Ella Fitzgerald repites singing about love. Birds do it, bees do it, even flies, fleas, tarakashki and bugs. Everybody does it, let's fall in love.
Of course, a little more - and at that turn I will meet the same one, a little curly and wearing glasses, or without glasses, high or not very (but taller than me when I'm on my heels), not too fashionable, but not some wheezed asshole. I will meet the witty and gall, but at the same time kind and generous, who does not put a smiley at the end of each sentence and does not order a strange cocktail, but drinks whiskey like a real man, but he is not an alcoholic, of course, but a good guy is , next to which I like a stone wall. He confidently drives a car that he, of course, has, he read a lot of books and loves good music, yes, he loves English music of the 60s, but at the same time he is not an old-fashioned bore. He looked at all of Woody Allen, without pathos he talks about architecture, he doesn’t insert English words into his speech, but he knows the language well. In a business letter, he will never write “Good day”, and in a personal message - “How is everything yours?”. He is almost perfect, but not so much that in his presence I feel like a worm. Well, in the end, let him have a bad temper, inflated self-conceit and ugly ears - I will forgive.
Lithuanians, Finns, Dutch and Siamese twins. They all do it. Lord, what is wrong with me?
Monument to Gogol. It was here in this and that year that M. and I kissed for the first time. We walked from a club in a side street nearby - there seems to be a concert. We sat on a bench at the monument and were very nervous. Then there was no homeless people. It was empty - only M. and I. Maybe not empty, but I do not remember anyone else. We talked about the fact that nothing could happen between us, that we were friends and that, moreover, he had just ended an affair with my best friend. Then M. sat on his haunches, hugging my knees with his knees, and kissed me. It was a very warm September and a dark blue corduroy jacket, but I was shivering. I do not remember how we left and what happened afterwards.
Argentines, no doubt, and even bean do it.
What happened then? In the fall, we all went to the same club, he walked me along Gogol Boulevard. Nearby were closed courtyards, where we first guessed to put our hands under each other's clothes. We have been hiding everything for a long time, because he had an affair with my girlfriend, and at 16 you still do not know that this is always the case. We went to the Cinema Museum because we had no money for anything else. Then everyone went to the Cinema Museum: he had his own building. In some yards and porches on Presnya, we tried to be together, but all the time some aunt with bags and women with children interfered. Yes, our sex life depended on housing problems. And all the time the leaves were falling, because October had already come. We studied in different schools, and in class he wrote letters in small round handwriting, and then he shoved them into my mailbox.
Even oysters, even oysters do it.
Then summer came, and he fell in love. For several months, we barely communicated, and then in the first year I was sent on an internship to Venice, at the University of Ca 'Foscari, where at every step I saw his lanky silhouette. If you can dry out of love, that is what happened to me. Six months later I returned to Moscow, and again there was October, and I started thinking about someone else, but once M. and I went to Illusion, and on the bridge he turned me around and kissed me, and someone else and dissolved, not having time to materialize properly. For another two years, we wandered through the alleys and boulevards, miraculously enduring up to 19, and then married.
Even eels, even shads (God knows what the creatures are).
On Tverskoy Boulevard we walked with a stroller. A baby slept in it. He had the surname M.
Japanese, Laplanders, chimpanzees and kangaroos. What happened to us, where did it all evaporate?
All consoling platitudes about "time heals, and everything, anyway, will pass" turned out to be true
Joint Passionate and Christmas. Here we walked three together: there are photos where we blow bubbles. Everyone was so jealous of how beautiful our young family is.
Giraffes and eagles, and also Marie-Antoinette with Napoleon.
Everything burst in less than a year. Probably, it happens to almost everyone: I didn’t sleep much and was angry a lot, M. wanted more attention and less life. One accidentally read message, broken against the wall of the phone and it feels as if someone close to me has died.
M. and I are very good friends, and now it is even strange to imagine that then it was us. That from his kisses, I almost fainted. What she believed was forever. All the consoling platitudes about "time heals, and everything, anyway, will pass" turned out to be true - and something huge, which overwhelmed me for many years, evaporated, leaving behind a trace in the form of affection. There are leaves torn out of a notebook in a cage, some photos where we are very young and very happy (most of them burned together with the old computer), as well as a few printed letters (because the Hotmail box was missing along with the forgotten password).
The boulevard broke off with Solyanka, and my iPod sat down.