[ Show ]
Support VoyForums
[ Shrink ]
VoyForums Announcement:
Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor
of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users'
privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your
privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket
to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we
also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.
Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your
contribution is not tax-deductible.)
PayPal Acct: 
Feedback: 
Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):
[ Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message ]
Date Posted: 10:41:40 07/07/09 Tue
Author: Vladimir Glushchenko
Subject: Yulia Ivanova The Return. Joanna’ Page 4
Yulia Ivanova
The Return. Joanna’ Page 4
She had amazing and wonderful childhood. Or is it a peculiarity and a privilege of war children? They had lack of all things: bread, clothes, toys and entertainments. And that’s why they could be happy with small mercies: A new dress sewn from an old one belonged to mother, a sweet, a bottle of lemonade, a paper elastic ball bought in the market. Their imagination provided these “small mercies” with all attributes of magic and significance.
Those fairy New Year’s trees with homemade flags and pieces of old wadding on their branches and amateur concerts with indispensable choirs singing ‘Varyag’ and “Artillerymen, Stalin gave a command” and dances ‘Yablochko’ and ‘The Moon is shining’. Now it makes one laugh but then... How wonderful seemed this poem about a severe hero-pilot and his courageous sister Nadya who rushed to put out firebombs, not sparing her new shoes. And her brother who returned “with glory” granted her a bicycle as a reward. Those were wonderful poems.
And New Year’s gifts! Three sweets, two biscuits, one mandarin and a picture that must be cut out and hung on a New Year’s tree – what wonderful gifts they were.
It was wonderful childhood.
Their small two-storied house (eight flats for eighteen families) stood on the very outskirts of the town that was rather a big village at that time. Behind the house there were kitchen gardens, a kolkhoz meadow a currant bushes, a pond and a wood: therefore, it can be said that she had rural childhood in the open countryside. But there was little of this “countryside”. There was nothing luxuriant and boundless. A sparse wood where she knew all trees, ravines and glades but it was a true wood where birds sang and where one could find wild strawberries in July and mushrooms in August and which was green, yellowish, transparent, naked or white depending on seasons. The strawberries were measured not by jars or glasses or but by straws, on which the berries ware threaded like beads. Mushrooms were measured not by buckets but by pieces. The one who found a squirrel's bread became a hero of a day. It was happy to see an unknown flower in the meadow, a mourning-cloak butterfly, an emperor moth or a dragonfly. All of that was not enough and for this reason the wood, the pond with its bathing hut, with its place for divers and with its pool, a refuge for frogs and leeches, the slope to the pond, which served as a slide in winter; ribbed and rough ice on the skating-rink when the pond was frozen and a sole willow with a rope, laying hold of which one could swing over the water.
Maybe even at that time in that frail world touching and defenceless doom was felt, and protecting this world, children loved and protected so necessary confidence of firmness and eternity of the world of their childhood, a beginning of beginnings.
It was kept in her memory like that, as if it was on that old picture, which Joanna took out of a beer cardboard box when she “fooled away her time” (now it is called depression). A photographer caught a moment when seven-year-old Yana smiled like a clown fearing to show her missing baby teeth. But this poor smile wasn’t important; the main thing was that Yana stood on the very turn of the road from the railway station to their home from where one could see a meadow, kitchen gardens, a pond with a willow and a wood. This world of hers, this beginning of beginnings, so familiar for her and so illusively accessible was spread before her eyes.
Joanna mentally travelled through kitchen gardens and a meadow to the willow and holding the rope flew over greenish water coated with duckweed. Her heart similarly stopped beating and her body languished, enjoying and suffering from division in two – it enjoyed the flight and longed for landing and having a foothold. And when her memory at last found land at the bank of the river she regained strength and recovery like Antaeus who touched the mother-land.
And one Sunday when Joanna particularly fooled away her time, she, feeling ashamed but comforting herself that her nostalgia for the past was now inherent to all humanity, came to the square of three railway stations in Moscow and bought a ticket to her childhood time.
There were no more steam locomotives at that time, and it took her half an hour to reach her station by electric train, and Joanna seemed that she was going by overland railway along a new district of Moscow. Blocks of flats, plants, concrete platforms with colourful windows... plots of wood quickly rushed by the windows as if the train went into a green tunnel for a moment.
But the town of her childhood became now a real town with busses and cabs, and working her way through a labyrinth of new blocks, she again couldn’t help feeling that she didn’t leave Moscow.
She didn’t recognize anything, and almost despaired to find something remotely referring to that photo, but suddenly she understood that she was standing at the very place where there was a road turn to her house. The only difference was that now before her there were no kitchen gardens, no meadow, no wood behind them and all the more no pond with a rope swinging on a willow. Instead of them there was a public service establishment where people crowded waiting for the end of a dinner break; there was a kindergarten with painted swings and sandpits, and behind it there were blocks whose inhabitant visited that establishment in order to have them clean their suits or repair their TV-sets. Their children went to this kindergarten or that school, and by evenings adults took their children and went to the cinema if the children under sixteen were allowed to.
All these things were in front of her, but an old path remained, and it led to her house.
It’s surprising but nothing considerably changed here as if this plot of land with her house with, a stairway leading to the garret, with three birches and even with a washing line hung between birches was accurately cut out of her memory and moved here to this other new world. But the town rejected and didn’t accept her as something alien and incompatible. The things that were once real and full of life drew themselves together and became colourless; they still existed but were dying and collapsing in everybody’s eyes.
The house hadn’t been repaired for a long time; the plaster on the wall was all in splits and stains; here and there it came off, and shingle was seen like ribs; on the roof rusty stains showed through. Autumnal mud around the house unattractively contrasted to clean concrete pavements, along which she just walked.
Where the path turned to her house there was no more asphalt. It looked like a springboard for divers at a pond.
Once her house was intended to become the beginning of the new town - two-storied one among one-storied ones. Maybe, for this reason until now it managed to remain in reconstruction plans. But the town stepped past the epoch of two-storied houses to the epoch of multi-storeyed, block and large-panel ones. Her house was neither the beginning of the new town, nor the end of the old one. He expressed and symbolized nothing; it stayed alone and strange.
She stayed at the edge of the pavement, looked at old women sitting at the front door and thought that her acquaintances who once weren’t old women may be found among them, and how horrible it would be to approach them now through the mud and in boots-stockings, the latest fashion, that she put on for no purpose...
The old women also would look at her and whisper to one another.
“Miss, are you looking for anything?”
She started and only then felt nervous; the voice behind her back fell on her like an avalanche. But a boy in a nylon zip jacket, in bell-bottomed trousers and with shoulder-length hair smiled. He came from this new town that he was proud of and knew through and through: where the kindergarten, the school and the establishment of public service were as much as she once knew everything about that town of hers.
But he took her for his fellow-townsman because she also wore bell-bottomed trousers covering lacquered boots-stockings and a leather jacket fitting in the waist, a leather beret with a large peak and a bag over her shoulder – a real girl.
She stared at him and was alone at that moment, neither with old women, nor with him, as well as her house was. But the boy didn’t notice his mistake; maybe, she was preserved better than the house. He approvingly examined her jacket fitting in the waist and beret with a peak, having a burning desire to tell and show where every building was.
And then she cowardly turned her back upon the house and being horrified by herself asked him the way to the railway station...
The house is waiting for her. She is running to it along washed away path, and Tolya Luchkin in a blue ladies’ coat is rolling his hoop towards her.
Mum leads Yana along the path – it takes them about 20 minutes to reach home from the railway station. They pass barracks and wooden huts with front gardens and geraniums on their windowsills. A boy in a blue ladies’ coat girded with a belt rolls a rusty hoop along the path sniffing through his wet nose. This is Tolya Luchkin, a son of the shop assistant Nadya. He will roll his hoop until his six form school age, get bad marks and sink in his sniffles, and aunt Nadya will weep near her scales watering cookies and cakes with salty rains of tears because of her negligent Tolik.
Later she will send Tolik to Crimea for a summer to a sanatorium to treat his chronic rhinitis, and there a miracle will happen with him. He not only will be healed of his rhinitis but come back so handsome that it will be more than words can tell. Was he Tolik or not Tolik? All girls at the school will sigh for him, and Yana will dedicate the first poem in her life to him where such lines will be written,
When you in a November park
Stroll sadly, waiting for me,
New-fallen snow becomes hot
Poplar snowstorm of May.
It will be a lie, a poetic fiction. Tolik never waited for Yana or other girl in a park in May or all the more in November. Tolik Luchkin now spent all his free time in a club where in May, in November and even in January (the club wasn’t heated) fans of chess gathered. In Yalta’s sanatorium Tolik was not only healed of his rhinitis and became a handsome boy but learnt to play chess. Later Tolik will get a grade and go mad on chess once for all. He will go to matches, competition, grow and perfect himself, and his name will appear in newspapers. And when after many years Yana happens to meet him he will be a celebrity, an International Grand Master.
Being tired of glory and sun (by freak of fate they will get together right at Yalta’s beach), grown bald and again lost his wonderful beauty, Tolik will sluggishly look over ‘Literary Paper’ and try to protect himself from fans humming around him. He will wear satin briefs and a chequered handkerchief on his head. Behind him a buxom woman-matron will knit a sweater for him, and Tolik will offer his naked back for fitting.
Yana will look at Tolik and see him rolling a hoop along a street and sniffling. She will see the sun appearing through his stuck out ears, aunt Nadya weeping at the counter and also herself and two more girls who becoming numb with cold clung to a frozen window of the club and admired at wonderful beauty of Tolik Luchkin who played his next chess opening. Joanna will recollect all of that after many years at Yalta’s beach and for some reason decide not to approach Tolik but go with her roommate to hairdresser’s to do her nails. And for some reason the very thought that this matron with knitting needles was aunt Nadya’s daughter in law was particularly unbearable. Afterwards, seeing his “chess prognoses” in newspapers she will imagine his naked back with an unfinished sweater on it.
The boy splashes them with mud and runs away tangling in laps of his coat and clattering by his hoop. Mum even doesn’t look around. Having big suitcases in both of her hands and a rucksack behind her back she treads on air. On her cheeks she has two hot spots-fires. A white ghost of father’s letter in our post-box attracts her, and she runs after that ghost, seeing nothing, like Tolik runs after his hoop.
“You are a fool,” Yana cries to then unknown Tolik Luchkin and hurriedly goes after mum by a long one-storied barracks with big windows, there she would study for seven years, by aunt Nadya’s shop, behind which a house hides. In that house her friend Luska lives. In Luska’s yard her little brother’s nappies gets dry. In three years she and Luska will take him to go by do-it-himself raft and nearly drown him in the pond. After some time he will bet Yana a thousand roubles that he will never marry. Later he will enter a Suvorov Military School, and twenty years later they will be destined to purchase Lada cars in the same day. And Yana won’t doubt that a thickset major with a briefcase is Luska’s brother Victor (Victor has a birthmark under his right eye). And a nervous restless lady near him is his spouse, and this means that it’s time to obtain a thousand roubles from him.
Joanna will be noble and only ask Victor about Luska. He will answer that Luska is remarried, and this marriage of her is successful, that she has a daughter and works in a design department at a plant. Luska is a draughtswoman.
It will turn out that Luska lives in ten minutes walking distance of her, and Joanna will write down her phone number.
She will never phone Luska.
But all of that will be later...
A turn to the house. Over kitchen gardens smoke hangs – they are burning tops of dug potatoes. Behind kitchen gardens there is a pond, a willow with yellow autumnal leaves and a meadow. And in the distance there is a wood as far as one’s eye can embrace.
Their house is on the right. They go along the path pulling their feet out of squelching mud.
How beautiful their house is! It is heaven-high, exposed to the wind and newly painted by bright pink paint because everyone is tired to death of masking and darkened windows but now one shouldn’t be afraid of bombing. The tenants will soon come back – from the front and evacuation zones, and the house will meet them in this bold, stunning, exotic and festive costume. They will settle in flats smelling of oil paint and have only works and holidays, love and quarrels, illnesses and recoveries, ups and downs. Old men will die and babies will be born. Babies will lie in prams under windows under the care of the same old women. Later they will play in a sandpit under three birches; later they will be allowed to run to the pond behind kitchen gardens; later they will go to school... She returned to you, an old house, from the past and from the future. The house waited for her. It also waited for those who would return from the past to the past and those who
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Replies:
[>
Òåêñò ïî-ðóññêè. Þ.Èâàíîâà. Âîçâðàùåíèå. Ñòðàíèöà Èîàííû 4 -- Ñåìåí, 12:27:32 07/07/09 Tue
Èç õóäîæåñòâåííî-äîêóìåíòàëüíîé ìèñòåðèè Þ.Èâàíîâîé "Äðåìó÷èå äâåðè"
Âîçâðàùåíèå. Ñòðàíèöà Èîàííû 4 Äâåðü1
Ó íå¸ áûëî óäèâèòåëüíîå ïðåêðàñíîå äåòñòâî. Èëè ýòî òîæå îñîáåííîñòü, ïðèâèëåãèÿ äåòåé âîéíû? Ó íèõ âñåãî áûëî ìàëî - õëåáà, îäåæäû, èãðóøåê, ðàçâëå÷åíèé, íî èìåííî ïîýòîìó îíè óìåëè ïî-íàñòîÿùåìó ðàäîâàòüñÿ ìàëîìó. Íîâîìó ïëàòüþ, ïåðåøèòîìó èç ñòàðîãî ìàìèíîãî, êîíôåòå, áóòûëêå ëèìîíàäà, ðûíî÷íîìó áóìàæíîìó ìÿ÷èêó íà ðåçèíêå. È óæ êàê ó íèõ ðàáîòàëà ôàíòàçèÿ, íàäåëÿÿ ýòî "ìàëîå" âñåìè àòðèáóòàìè íåîáõîäèìîãî äåòñòâó âîëøåáñòâà, çíà÷èòåëüíîñòè, ìíîãîçíà÷íîñòè!
Ýòè ñêàçî÷íûå ¸ëêè ñ ñàìîäåëüíûìè ôëàæêàìè è êëî÷êàìè ñòàðîãî âàòèíà íà âåòêàõ, ñàìîäåÿòåëüíûå êîíöåðòû ñ íåïðåìåííûì õîðîì /"Âàðÿã" è "Àðòèëëåðèñòû, Ñòàëèí äàë ïðèêàç", ïëÿñêîé "ßáëî÷êî" è "Ñâåòèò ìåñÿö"/, ñ äåêëàìàöèåé: "È óëåòåë ñóðîâûé, è ñòàë ôàøèñòîâ áèòü, à ñåñòðû â òóôëÿõ íîâûõ ïîøëè ñåáå õîäèòü"... Ñåé÷àñ ñìåøíî, à òîãäà... Êàêèìè çàìå÷àòåëüíûìè êàçàëèñü ýòè ñòèõè î ñóðîâîì ãåðîå-ë¸ò÷èêå è åãî ìóæåñòâåííîé ñåñòð¸íêå Íàäå, êîòîðàÿ, áðîñèâøèñü òóøèòü "îãíåííûå áîìáû" íå ïîæàëåëà íîâûõ òóôåëåê. À âåëîñèïåä, êîòîðûé â íàãðàäó ïîäàðèë åé âåðíóâøèéñÿ "ñî ñëàâîé" áðàò! Ýòî áûëè çàìå÷àòåëüíûå ñòèõè.
À íîâîãîäíèå ïîäàðêè! Òðè êîíôåòû, äâà ïå÷åíüÿ, îäèí ìàíäàðèí è êàðòèíêà, êîòîðóþ íàäî âûðåçàòü è ïîâåñèòü íà ¸ëêó, çàìå÷àòåëüíûå ïîäàðêè.
Çàìå÷àòåëüíîå äåòñòâî.
Èõ íåáîëüøîé äâóõýòàæíûé äîì /âîñåìü êâàðòèð, âîñåìíàäöàòü ñåìåé/ ñòîÿë íà ñàìîé îêðàèíå ãîðîäêà, êîòîðûé òîãäà áûë ñêîðåå áîëüøèì ñåëîì. Ñðàçó æå çà äîìîì - îãîðîäû, êîëõîçíûé ëóã è êîëõîçíàÿ ñìîðîäèíà, ïðóä è ëåñ, òàê ÷òî ìîæíî ñêàçàòü, ÷òî ó íå¸ áûëî äåðåâåíñêîå äåòñòâî, äåòñòâî íà ëîíå ïðèðîäû. Íî äåðåâåíñêîãî ýòîãî "ëîíà" òîæå áûëî ìàëî. Íè÷åãî áóéíîãî, áåñêðàéíåãî, ïûøíîãî, íåîáîçðèìîãî. Ðåäêèé ëåñîê, ãäå îíà çíàëà íàèçóñòü âñå äåðåâüÿ, îâðàæêè è ïîëÿíû, íî âñ¸ æå ýòî áûë íàñòîÿùèé ëåñ, â êîòîðîì ÷èðèêàëè ïòèöû, â èþëå ïîïàäàëàñü çåìëÿíèêà, à ñ àâãóñòà - ãðèáû, êîòîðûé áûë òî çåë¸íûì, òî çîëîòèñòî-áàãðîâûì, òî áåççàùèòíî-ïðîçðà÷íûì, îáíàæ¸ííûì, òî òîðæåñòâåííî áåëûì, â çàâèñèìîñòè îò âðåìåíè ãîäà. Ïðàâäà, çåìëÿíèêà â í¸ì ìåðèëàñü íå áàíêàìè, íå ñòàêàíàìè, à ñîëîìèíàìè, íà êîòîðûå ÿãîäû íàíèçûâàëèñü, êàê áóñû. Ãðèáû æå - íå â¸äðàìè è êîðçèíàìè, à øòóêàìè. Òîò, êòî íàõîäèë áîðîâèê, ñòàíîâèëñÿ ãåðîåì äíÿ. Ñ÷àñòüåì áûëî óâèäåòü íåèçâåñòíûé öâåòîê íà ëóãó, áàáî÷êó-òðàóðíèöó èëè "Ïàâëèíèé ãëàç", ñòðåêîçó. Âñåãî ýòîãî áûëî ìàëî, è ïîòîìó îñîáåííî öåíèëñÿ è ëåñ, è ïðóä /ñî ñâîåé êóïàëüíåé, ñ ïëîùàäêîé äëÿ íûðÿëüùèêîâ, ñî ñâîèì îìóòîì - óáåæèùåì ëÿãóøåê è ïèÿâîê/, è ñïóñê ê ïðóäó, ñëóæèâøèé çèìîé ãîðêîé, è ðåáðèñòûé íåðîâíûé ë¸ä íà êàòêå, êîãäà ïðóä çàñòûâàë, è åäèíñòâåííàÿ èâà ñ òîëñòîé âåð¸âêîé, óöåïèâøèñü çà êîòîðóþ ìîæíî áûëî ëåòàòü íàä âîäîé.
Âèäèìî, óæå òîãäà â ýòîì õðóïêîì ïîãðàíè÷íîì ìèðêå ÷óâñòâîâàëàñü òðîãàòåëüíàÿ áåççàùèòíàÿ îáðå÷¸ííîñòü, è îòñòàèâàÿ, çàùèùàÿ åãî, äåòè ëþáèëè è îòñòàèâàëè ñòîëü íåîáõîäèìóþ ÷åëîâåêó óâåðåííîñòü â íåçûáëåìîñòè, ïðî÷íîñòè, âå÷íîñòè ìèðà ñâîåãî äåòñòâà. Íà÷àëà íà÷àë.
Òàê îí è ñîõðàíèëñÿ â å¸ ïàìÿòè, áóäòî íà òîì ñòàðîì ñíèìêå, êîòîðûé Èîàííà äîñòàâàëà èç ïèâíîé êàðòîííîé êîðîáêè, êîãäà "ìó÷èëàñü äóðüþ" /òåïåðü ýòî íàçûâàþò äåïðåññèåé/. Ôîòîãðàô îñòàíîâèë ìãíîâåíüå, êîãäà ñåìèëåòíÿÿ ßíà ðàñòÿíóëà â äóðàöêîé êëîóíñêîé óëûáêå ñîìêíóòûå ãóáû, áîÿñü ïðîäåìîíñòðèðîâàòü âå÷íîñòè äûðêè îò âûïàâøèõ ìîëî÷íûõ çóáîâ. Íî øóò ñ íåé, ñ ýòîé íåóäà÷íîé óëûáêîé - ãëàâíîå, ßíà ñòîÿëà íà òîì ñàìîì èçãèáå äîðîãè, âåäóùåé îò âîêçàëà ê èõ äîìó, îòêóäà áûëè âèäíû ëóã è îãîðîäû, è ïðóä ñ èâîé, è ëåñîê. Îí áûë êàê íà ëàäîíè, ýòîò å¸ ìèð, ýòî íà÷àëî íà÷àë, òàêîé çíàêîìûé, òàêîé îáìàí÷èâî-äîñòóïíûé...
Èîàííà ìûñëåííî ñîâåðøàëà ïóòåøåñòâèå ÷åðåç îãîðîäû è ëóã äî èâû è, âöåïèâøèñü â êîëêóþ, ïðîïàõøóþ ä¸ãòåì âåð¸âêó, ïðîëåòàëà íàä çåëåíîâàòîé, ìåñòàìè ïîä¸ðíóòîé ðÿñêîé âîäîé. È òàê æå ¸êàëî, çàìèðàëî ñåðäöå, è òåëî òîìèëîñü, íàñëàæäàÿñü è ìó÷àÿñü ðàçäâîåíèåì - íàñëàæäàÿñü ïîë¸òîì è æåëàÿ ïðèçåìëåíèÿ, îïîðû. È êîãäà, íàêîíåö, ïàìÿòü å¸ íåóêëîííî âòûêàëàñü íîãàìè â áåðåã, ïðèõîäèëè ñèëà è èñöåëåíèå. Áóäòî ó Àíòåÿ, êîñíóâøåãîñÿ ìàòåðè-çåìëè.
È âîò îäíàæäû, â îäíî èç âîñêðåñåíèé, îñîáåííî "ìó÷àÿñü äóðüþ", Èîàííà, ñòûäÿñü, íî óòåøàÿ ñåáÿ òåì, ÷òî íîñòàëüãèÿ ïî ïðîøëîìó ñâîéñòâåííà íûí÷å ÷åëîâå÷åñòâó â öåëîì, ïðèåõàëà íà ïëîùàäü òð¸õ âîêçàëîâ è âçÿëà áèëåò â äåòñòâî.
Ïàðîâèêîâ, åñòåñòâåííî, óæå íå áûëî, ýëåêòðè÷êà äî å¸ ñòàíöèè øëà îêîëî ïîëó÷àñà, è âîîáùå Èîàííå êàçàëîñü, ÷òî îíà ïðîñòî åäåò â íàçåìíîì ïîåçäå ìåòðî ïî íîâîìó ðàéîíó Ìîñêâû. Êâàðòàëû ìíîãîýòàæíûõ äîìîâ, çàâîäû, áåòîííûå ïëàòôîðìû ñî ñòàíöèîííûìè ñòåêëÿøêàìè... Ó÷àñòêè ëåñà ïðîíîñèëèñü ìèìî îêîí áûñòðî è ðåäêî, áóäòî ïîåçä âúåçæàë íà íåñêîëüêî ñåêóíä â çåë¸íûé òîííåëü.
À ãîðîäîê å¸ äåòñòâà ñòàë òåïåðü íàñòîÿùèì ãîðîäîì. Çäåñü õîäèëè àâòîáóñû, òàêñè è, ïðîáèðàÿñü ñêâîçü ëàáèðèíò ìíîãîýòàæíûõ íîâîñòðîåê, îíà îïÿòü íå ìîãëà îòäåëàòüñÿ îò îùóùåíèÿ, ÷òî òàê è íå óåõàëà èç Ìîñêâû.
Îíà íè÷åãî íå óçíàâàëà, è óæ ñîâñåì áûëî îò÷àÿëàñü íàéòè ÷òî-ëèáî õîòü îòäàë¸ííî èìåþùåå îòíîøåíèå ê òîé ôîòîãðàôèè, êàê âäðóã ïîíÿëà, ÷òî ñòîèò â òîé ñàìîé òî÷êå, ãäå áûë ïðåæäå ïîâîðîò äîðîãè ê äîìó. Òîëüêî íåò âïåðåäè íè îãîðîäîâ, íè ëóãà, íè ëåñà çà íèìè, íè, òåì áîëåå, ïðóäà ñ áîëòàþùåéñÿ íà èâå âåð¸âêîé, à åñòü Êîìáèíàò áûòîâîãî îáñëóæèâàíèÿ, ïåðåä êîòîðûì òîëïèòñÿ íàðîä â îæèäàíèè êîíöà îáåäåííîãî ïåðåðûâà, åñòü äåòñêèé ñàä ñ ÿðêî ðàñêðàøåííûìè êà÷àëêàìè è ïåñî÷íèöàìè, à äàëüøå äîìà, äîìà, æèòåëè êîòîðûõ õîäÿò â ýòîò Êîìáèíàò ñäàòü â ÷èñòêó êîñòþì èëè ïî÷èíèòü òåëåâèçîð, èõ äåòè - â ýòîò ñàäèê èëè âîí â òó øêîëó, à âå÷åðàìè âçðîñëûå áåðóò ýòèõ ñâîèõ äåòåé è èäóò âîí â òîò êèíîòåàòð, åñëè äåòè äî øåñòíàäöàòè äîïóñêàþòñÿ:
Âîò ÷òî áûëî âïåðåäè, à òðîïèíêà... Òðîïèíêà îñòàëàñü. È âåëà îíà ê å¸ äîìó.
Ïîðàçèòåëüíî, ÷òî çäåñü íè÷åãî ñóùåñòâåííî íå èçìåíèëîñü, áóäòî ýòîò êëî÷îê çåìëè ñ å¸ äîìîì, ñ âåäóùåé íà ÷åðäàê ëåñòíèöåé, ñ òðåìÿ áåð¸çàìè ó ïîäúåçäà è äàæå ïðîòÿíóòîé ìåæ áåð¸çàìè áåëüåâîé âåð¸âêîé, áûë àêêóðàòíî âûðåçàí èç å¸ ïàìÿòè è ïåðåñàæåí ñþäà, â ýòîò äðóãîé íîâûé ìèð. Íî ãîðîä îòòîðãàë, íå ïðèíèìàë åãî, êàê íå÷òî ÷óæåðîäíîå, íåñîâìåñòèìîå. Áûâøåå êîãäà-òî ðåàëüíîñòüþ, íàñûùåííîé æèçíüþ è êðàñêàìè ïëîòüþ, ñú¸æèëîñü, îáåñöâåòèëîñü, îíî åù¸ áûëî, íî óìèðàëî è ðóøèëîñü íà ãëàçàõ.
Äîì óæå äàâíî íå ðåìîíòèðîâàëè, øòóêàòóðêà íà ñòåíàõ áûëà âñÿ â òðåùèíàõ è ïîäò¸êàõ, ìåñòàìè îáëóïèëàñü, è òàì, áóäòî ð¸áðà, ïðîñâå÷èâàëà äðàíêà, íà êðûøå ïðîñòóïàëè ðæàâûå ïÿòíà. Ãðÿçíîå îñåííåå ìåñèâî âîêðóã äîìà ñîñòàâëÿëî íåâûãîäíûé êîíòðàñò ñ ÷èñòåíüêèìè, çàêîâàííûìè â áåòîí òðîòóàðàìè, ïî êîòîðûì îíà òîëüêî ÷òî øëà.
Òàì, ãäå òðîïèíêà ïîâîðà÷èâàëà ê å¸ äîìó, àñôàëüò îáðûâàëñÿ. Ýêîíîìèÿ. Ýòî íàïîìèíàëî äîñêó äëÿ íûðÿëüùèêîâ íà ïðóäó.
Êîãäà-òî å¸ äîì áûë ïðåäíàçíà÷åí ñòàòü íà÷àëîì íîâîãî ãîðîäà - äâóõýòàæíûé ñðåäè îäíîýòàæíûõ. Âèäèìî, ïîýòîìó åìó è óäàâàëîñü äî ñèõ ïîð äåðæàòüñÿ â ðåêîíñòðóêòîðñêèõ ïëàíàõ. Íî ãîðîä øàãíóë ìèìî ýïîõè äâóõýòàæåê â ýïîõó ìíîãîýòàæíóþ, áëî÷íóþ è êðóïíîïàíåëüíóþ. Ÿ äîì íå áûë íè íà÷àëîì íîâîãî ãîðîäà, íè êîíöîì ñòàðîãî. Îí íè÷åãî íå âûðàæàë è íå ñèìâîëèçèðîâàë, îí áûë ñàì ïî ñåáå, ÷óæàêîì.
Îíà áóäåò ñòîÿòü ó êðàÿ òðîòóàðà, ñìîòðåòü íà ñèäÿùèõ ó ïîäúåçäà ñòàðóõ è äóìàòü, ÷òî íàâåðíÿêà ñðåäè íèõ îêàæóòñÿ çíàêîìûå, áûâøèå êîãäà-òî íå ñòàðóõàìè, è êàêîé ýòî áóäåò óæàñ - ñåé÷àñ ïîäîéòè ê íèì, äà åù¸ ïî ãðÿçè, äà åù¸ â ñàïîãàõ-÷óëêàõ, - ïîñëåäíèé ïèñê, êîòîðûå îíà íåèçâåñòíî çà÷åì íàïÿëèëà...
Ñòàðóõè áóäóò òîæå ñìîòðåòü íà íå¸ è ïåðåø¸ïòûâàòüñÿ.
- Äåâóøêà, âû ÷òî-íèáóäü èùåòå?
Îíà âçäðîãíåò è òîëüêî òóò ïî÷óâñòâóåò, íàñêîëüêî íàòÿíóòû íåðâû - ãîëîñ çà ñïèíîé îáðóøèòñÿ íà íå¸, êàê ëàâèíà. À ïàðåíü áóäåò óëûáàòüñÿ - â íåéëîíîâîé êóðòêå íà ìîëíèè, â ðàñêëåøåííûõ áðþêàõ è ñ âîëîñàìè äî ïëå÷. Îí áóäåò èç ýòîãî íîâîãî ãîðîäà, êîòîðûì îí ãîðäèòñÿ è çíàåò íàçóáîê, ãäå êàêîé êîðïóñ, ãäå äåòñàä, ãäå øêîëà è êîìáèíàò áûòîâîãî îáñëóæèâàíèÿ, òàê æå, êàê îíà êîãäà-òî çíàëà âñ¸ î ñâî¸ì òîì ãîðîäå.
Íî îí ïðèíÿë å¸ çà ñâîþ - íà íåé òîæå áóäóò ðàñêëåøåííûå áðþêè, ïðèêðûâàþùèå ëàêîâûå ñàïîæêè - ÷óëêè, äà åù¸ êîæàíûé ïèäæàê â òàëèþ, è êîæàíûé áåðåò ñ áîëüøèì êîçûðüêîì, è ñóìêà ÷åðåç ïëå÷î. Äåâóøêà!..
Îíà áóäåò â óïîð ñìîòðåòü íà íåãî è áóäåò â òîò ìèã ñàìà ïî ñåáå, íå ñî ñòàðóõàìè è íå ñ íèì, êàê è å¸ äîì. Íî ïàðåíü òàê è íå çàìåòèò ñâîåé îøèáêè, âèäèìî, îíà âñ¸ æå ëó÷øå ñîõðàíèëàñü, ÷åì äîì. Îí îäîáðèòåëüíî îãëÿäèò å¸ ïèäæàê â òàëèþ, áåðåò ñ êîçûðüêîì è ñóìêó ÷åðåç ïëå÷î, ãîðÿ æåëàíèåì ðàññêàçàòü è ïîêàçàòü, ãäå êàêîé êîðïóñ.
È òîãäà îíà ìàëîäóøíî ïîâåðí¸òñÿ ñïèíîé ê äîìó è ñòàðóõàì è, óæàñàÿñü ñàìà ñåáå, ñïðîñèò, êàê ïðîéòè íà âîêçàë.
Îíà âäðóã îñîçíàåò, ÷òî íå ïîøëà íà åãî ïîõîðîíû, ïîòîìó ÷òî îí âîâñå íå óìåð, å¸ äîì. Îí ñàì óäðàë ñ ýòèõ ïîõîðîí è ñåé÷àñ óåçæàë âìåñòå ñ íåé, æèâîé è íåâðåäèìûé. Îòêðûòûé ñåìè âåòðàì, âûñîêèé - äî ñàìûõ îáëàêîâ, â ïðàçäíè÷íî-äåðçêîì ÿðêîðîçîâîì íàðÿäå. Ñ îãîðîäàìè, ëóãîì è ëåñîì, ñ íàøèì ïðóäîì, ñ èâîé íà áåðåãó è øåðøàâîé âåð¸âêîé, óöåïèâøèñü çà êîòîðóþ, ìîæíî ïòèöåé âçìûòü íàä âîäîé â ìó÷èòåëüíî-ñëàäêîé ïðîòèâîðå÷èâîé æàæäå ïîë¸òà è ïðèçåìëåíèÿ.
Îí æä¸ò å¸. Îíà áåæèò ê äîìó ïî ðàçìûòîé òðîïèíêå, è Òîëüêà Ëó÷êèí â ãîëóáîì äàìñêîì ïàëüòî êàòèò åé íàâñòðå÷ó ñâîé îáðó÷.
Ìàìà âåä¸ò ßíó ïî òðîïèíêå ê èõ äîìó - îò ñòàíöèè ìèíóò äâàäöàòü õîäüáû. Ìèìî áàðàêîâ è äåðåâÿííûõ äîìèøåê ñ ïàëèñàäíèêàìè, ñ ãåðàíüêàìè íà ïîäîêîííèêàõ. Ìàëü÷èøêà â ãîëóáîì äàìñêîì ïàëüòî, ïîäïîÿñàííîì ðåìíåì, â ñîëäàòñêèõ ñàïîãàõ, êàòèò ïî äîðîãå ðæàâûé îáðó÷, øìûãàÿ ìîêðûì íîñîì. Ýòî Òîëèê Ëó÷êèí, ñûí ïðîäàâùèöû Íàäè. Îí áóäåò êàòàòü îáðó÷ äî øåñòîãî êëàññà, è åëå ïîëçòè íà òðîéêàõ, è òîíóòü â ñîïëÿõ, è ò¸òÿ Íàäÿ áóäåò ðûäàòü íàä âåñàìè, ïîëèâàÿ ïå÷åíüå è ïðÿíèêè ãîðÿ÷èì ñîë¸íûì äîæä¸ì ñëåç ïî ïîâîäó íåðàäèâîãî Òîëèêà.
À ïîòîì îíà ïîøë¸ò Òîëèêà íà ëåòî â Êðûì, â ñàíàòîðèé - ëå÷èòü õðîíè÷åñêèé íàñìîðê, è òàì ñëó÷èòñÿ ñ íèì ÷óäî. Îí íå òîëüêî èçëå÷èòñÿ îò ñîïëåé, íî âåðí¸òñÿ âäðóã òàêèì êðàñàâöåì, ÷òî íè â ñêàçêå ñêàçàòü, íè ïåðîì îïèñàòü. Âðîäå áû è Òîëèê, è íå Òîëèê. È âñå äåâ÷îíêè â øêîëå áóäóò ïî íåìó ïîìèðàòü, à ßíà äàæå ïîñâÿòèò Òîëèêó ñâîè ïåðâûå â æèçíè ñòèõè, ãäå áóäóò òàêèå ñòðî÷êè:
Íî êîãäà òû â íîÿáðüñêîì ïàðêå
Ãðóñòíî áðîäèøü, ìåíÿ îæèäàÿ,
Ïåðâûé ñíåã âäðóã ñòàíîâèòñÿ æàðêîé
Òîïîëèíîé ìåòåëèöåé ìàÿ.
Ýòî áóäåò âðàíü¸ì, ïîýòè÷åñêèì âûìûñëîì. Òîëèê íèêîãäà íå ïîäæèäàë â ïàðêå íè ßíó, íè êàêóþ-ëèáî äðóãóþ äåâ÷îíêó. Íè â ìàå, íè, òåì áîëåå, â íîÿáðå. Òîëèê Ëó÷êèí òåïåðü ïðîñèæèâàë âñ¸ ñâî¸ ñâîáîäíîå âðåìÿ â Ïàâèëüîíå Òèõèõ Èãð, ãäå è â ìàå, è â íîÿáðå, è äàæå â ÿíâàðå /ïàâèëüîí íå îòàïëèâàëñÿ,/ ñîáèðàëèñü ëþáèòåëè øàõìàò.  ßëòèíñêîì ñàíàòîðèè Òîëèê íå òîëüêî èçëå÷èë íàñìîðê è ñòàë ïèñàíûì êðàñàâöåì - îí íàó÷èëñÿ èãðàòü â øàõìàòû.
Ïîòîì Òîëèê ïîëó÷èò ðàçðÿä è îêîí÷àòåëüíî ïîìåøàåòñÿ íà øàõìàòàõ - áóäåò åçäèòü íà ñîðåâíîâàíèÿ, îëèìïèàäû, ðàñòè è ñîâåðøåíñòâîâàòüñÿ, ïðî íåãî íà÷íóò ïèñàòü â ãàçåòàõ, è êîãäà ÷åðåç ìíîãî ëåò ßíà ñëó÷àéíî âñòðåòèòñÿ ñ íèì, îí áóäåò óæå çíàìåíèòîñòüþ, ìåæäóíàðîäíûì ãðîññìåéñòåðîì.
Óñòàâøèé îò ñëàâû è îò ñîëíöà / ïî êàïðèçó ñóäüáû âñòðåòÿòñÿ îíè êàê ðàç íà ïëÿæå â ßëòå/, îáëûñåâøèé è îïÿòü ïîòåðÿâøèé ñâîþ ÷óäåñíóþ êðàñîòó, Òîëèê áóäåò ëåíèâî ïðîñìàòðèâàòü "Ëèòåðàòóðêó", îòáèâàÿñü îò æóææàùèõ âîêðóã "ëþáèòåëåé". Íà í¸ì áóäóò ÷¸ðíûå ñàòèíîâûå òðóñû è êëåò÷àòûé íîñîâîé ïëàòîê íà ãîëîâå ñ òîð÷àùèìè ðîæêàìè çàâÿçàííûìè óãîëêàìè. Ðÿäîì äåáåëàÿ ìàòðîíà-æåíà áóäåò âÿçàòü åìó ñâèòåð, à Òîëèê - ïîêîðíî ïîäñòàâëÿòü ãîëóþ ñïèíó äëÿ ïðèìåðêè.
- Ïëàâêè á ìóæèêó êóïèëà, êëóøêà! - ïðîâîð÷èò ñîñåäêà ßíû ïî íîìåðó, - È êåïî÷êó íîðìàëüíóþ... Âåç¸ò ýòèì êëóõàì! Íåáîñü áàðàõëî âàãîíàìè òàùèò èç-çà áóãðà. È òàêîé ìóæèê èíòåðåñíûé!
À ßíà áóäåò ñìîòðåòü íà Òîëèêà è âèäåòü, êàê îí êàòèò ïî óëèöå îáðó÷, øìûãàÿ íîñîì, êàê ñêâîçü åãî çàì¸ðçøèå îòòîïûðåííûå óøè ðîçîâî ïðîñâå÷èâàåò ñîëíöå, êàê ðåâ¸ò çà ïðèëàâêîì ò¸òÿ Íàäÿ è êàê îíà, ßíà, è åù¸ äâå äåâ÷îíêè, êî÷åíåÿ îò õîëîäà, ïðèëüíóâ ê çàì¸ðçøåìó îêíó "Ïàâèëüîíà Òèõèõ Èãð", ëþáóþòñÿ ÷óäåñíîé êðàñîòîé Òîëüêè Ëó÷êèíà, ðàçûãðûâàþùåãî î÷åðåäíîé äåáþò. Âñ¸ ýòî âñïîìíèò Èîàííà ñïóñòÿ ìíîãî ëåò íà ßëòèíñêîì ïëÿæå è ïî÷åìó-òî ðàçäóìàåò ïîäõîäèòü ê Òîëèêó, à îòïðàâèòñÿ ñ ñîñåäêîé ïî íîìåðó â ïàðèêìàõåðñêóþ äåëàòü ìàíèêþð. È ïî÷åìó-òî ìûñëü, ÷òî ýòà ìàòðîíà ñî ñïèöàìè - íåâåñòêà èõ ò¸òè Íàäè - áóäåò îñîáåííî íåñòåðïèìîé. À ïîòîì îíà áóäåò, âñòðå÷àÿ â ãàçåòàõ åãî "øàõìàòíûå ïðîãíîçû", ïðåäñòàâëÿòü ñåáå åãî ãîëóþ ñïèíó ñ íàøë¸ïêîé íåäîâÿçàííîãî ñâèòåðà.
Ìàëü÷èøêà îáäà¸ò èõ ãðÿçüþ è óäèðàåò, ïóòàÿñü â ïîëàõ ãîëóáîãî ïàëüòî è ãðåìÿ îáðó÷åì. Ìàìà äàæå íå îáîðà÷èâàåòñÿ.  ðóêàõ ïî ÷åìîäàíèùó, çà ñïèíîé - ðþêçàê, à îíà ëåòèò, áóäòî êðûëüÿ â ðóêàõ, êðûëüÿ çà ñïèíîé. Íà ùåêàõ - äâà æàðêèõ ïÿòíà-îãîíüêà. Áåëûé ïðèçðàê îòöîâñêîãî ïèñüìà â íàøåì ïî÷òîâîì ÿùèêå ìàíèò å¸, ïîäõâàòûâàåò, è îíà áåæèò çà ýòèì ïðèçðàêîì, íå ðàçáèðàÿ äîðîãè, êàê Òîëèê çà ñâîèì îáðó÷åì.
- Äóðàê! - êðè÷èò ßíà åù¸ íåçíàêîìîìó Òîëüêå Ëó÷êèíó. È ñïåøèò çà ìàìîé. Ìèìî äëèííîãî îäíîýòàæíîãî áàðàêà ñ áîëüøèìè îêíàìè - çäåñü îíà ïðîó÷èòñÿ ñåìü ëåò, ìèìî ò¸òè Íàäèíîãî ìàãàçèíà, çà êîòîðûì ïðÿ÷åòñÿ äîìèê, ãäå æèâ¸ò å¸ Ëþñüêà, óæàñíàÿ, âñÿ îò áóðûõ êîñì äî ãðÿçíûõ ïÿòîê ñî çíàêîì ìèíóñ, çàïðåòíàÿ è îáîæàåìàÿ å¸ Ëþñüêà.  Ëþñüêèíîì äâîðå ñóøàòñÿ ïåë¸íêè - áðàòèøêèíû. ×åðåç òðè ãîäà îíè ñ Ëþñüêîé âîçüìóò åãî êàòàòü íà ñàìîäåëüíîì ïëîòó è åäâà íå óòîïÿò â ïðóäó, ïîòîì îí ïîñïîðèò ñ ßíîé íà òûñÿ÷ó ðóáëåé, ÷òî íèêîãäà íå æåíèòñÿ, ïîòîì ïîñòóïèò â Ñóâîðîâñêîå, à ïîòîì, ëåò ÷åðåç äâàäöàòü, ñóäüáå áóäåò óãîäíî, ÷òîá â îäèí äåíü ïîäîøëà ó íèõ î÷åðåäü íà "Æèãóëè". È ó ßíû íå áóäåò ñîìíåíèé, ÷òî êîðåíàñòûé ìàéîð ñ ïîðòôåëåì - Ëþñüêèí áðàò Âèòüêà /ó Âèòüêè ïîä ïðàâûì ãëàçîì ðîäèìîå ïÿòíî ñ ïÿòàê/. È íå áóäåò ñîìíåíèé, ÷òî íåðâíàÿ âåðòëÿâàÿ äàìà - "Òîëüêî âèøíåâûé, ñëûøü, âèøí¸âûé, ëó÷øå óæ çàâòðà ïðèä¸ì!.." - åãî çàêîííàÿ ñóïðóãà, à çíà÷èò, ÷òî òûñÿ÷ó ðóáëåé ñåé÷àñ ñàìîå âðåìÿ ñ íåãî ïîëó÷èòü.
Èîàííà áóäåò âåëèêîäóøíà è ïðîñòî ñïðîñèò ó Âèòüêè ïðî Ëþñüêó. Îí îòâåòèò, ÷òî Ëþñüêà âòîðîé ðàç çàìóæåì, êàæåòñÿ, óäà÷íî, ÷òî ó íå¸ äî÷êà, è ÷òî ðàáîòàåò îíà â ÊÁ íà çàâîäå.
Ëþñüêà - ÷åðò¸æíèöà! Âñ¸ ðàâíî ÷òî ïðåäñòàâèòü ñåáå áåøåíî òàðàõòÿùóþ èãëó øâåéíîé ìàøèíêè çà âûòàñêèâàíèåì çàíîçû èç ïàëüöà.
Îêàæåòñÿ, ÷òî æèâ¸ò òåïåðü Ëþñüêà â äåñÿòè ìèíóòàõ õîäüáû îò íå¸, è Èîàííà çàïèøåò íîìåð å¸ òåëåôîíà.
Èîàííå äîñòàíåòñÿ ñåðûé àâòîìîáèëü, è Âèòüêå ñåðûé, è îñòàëüíîé î÷åðåäè. Èì îáúÿñíÿò, ÷òî âñÿ ïàðòèÿ - èñêëþ÷èòåëüíî "ñåðàÿ ìûøü".
Ëþñüêå îíà òàê è íå ïîçâîíèò.
Íî âñ¸ ýòî áóäåò ïîòîì...
Ïîâîðîò ê äîìó. Íàä îãîðîäàìè ñòåëåòñÿ äûìîê - æãóò áîòâó îò óáðàííîé êàðòîøêè. Çà îãîðîäàìè - ïðóä, èâà ñ ïîðæàâåâøåé îñåííåé ëèñòâîé, ïîëîñêà ëóãà. Äàëüøå, íàñêîëüêî õâàòàåò ãëàç - ëåñ.
Íàïðàâî - èõ äîì. Îíè èäóò ïî òðîïèíêå, âûäèðàÿ íîãè èç õëþïàþùåé ãðÿçè.
Êàêîé îí êðàñèâûé, èõ äîì! Âûñîêèé, äî íåáà, îòêðûòûé ñåìè âåòðàì, ñâåæåâûêðàøåííûé ñàìîé íåìûñëèìî ÿðêîé ðîçîâîé êðàñêîé. Ïîòîìó ÷òî äî ñìåðòè íàäîåëè ìàñêèðîâêè è çàòåìíåíèÿ, è íå íàäî áîÿòüñÿ áîìá¸æåê. Ñêîðî æèëüöû âåðíóòñÿ - ñ ôðîíòà, èç ýâàêóàöèè, è äîì âñòðåòèò èõ â ýòîì äåðçêîì, îøåëîìëÿþùåì, ýêçîòè÷åñêîì è ïðàçäíè÷íîì íàðÿäå. Îíè ðàññåëÿòñÿ ïî êâàðòèðàì, ïàõíóùèì ìàñëÿíîé êðàñêîé, è âñ¸ ó íèõ áóäåò - ðàáîòà è îòïóñêà, ëþáîâü è ññîðû, áîëåçíè è âûçäîðîâëåíèÿ, ïàäåíèÿ è âçë¸òû... Áóäóò óìèðàòü ñòàðèêè è ðîæäàòüñÿ äåòè. Äåòè áóäóò ëåæàòü â êîëÿñêàõ ïîä îêíàìè ïîä ïðèñìîòðîì âñ¸ òåõ æå ñòàðóøåê, ïîòîì èãðàòü â ïåñî÷íèöå ïîä òðåìÿ áåð¸çàìè, ïîòîì èì ðàçðåøàò áåãàòü çà îãîðîäû ê ïðóäó, ïîòîì ïîéäóò â øêîëó... Áóäåò - áûëî... Îíà âåðíóëàñü ê òåáå, ñòàðûé äîì. Èç ïðîøëîãî è èç áóäóùåãî. Äîì æäàë å¸. È æäàë òåõ, êòî âåðí¸òñÿ èç ïðîøëîãî â ïðîøëîå. È òåõ, êòî íå âåðí¸òñÿ íèêîãäà.
© Copyright: Þëèÿ Èîàííîâà, 2009
Ñâèäåòåëüñòâî î ïóáëèêàöèè ¹1902130944
Ñì "Äðåìó÷èå äâåðè"
Ïîëíûé òåêñò
http://izania.narod.ru/main.html
[ Edit | View ]
[> [>
Êàê ñòðàííî, ÷òî âêóñû è ïðåäïî÷òåíèÿ ïî÷òè íå ìåíÿþòñÿ -- Âåðîíèêà Áåðåæí¸âà, 12:40:23 07/07/09 Tue
Êîãäà-òî ÷èòàëà ýòîò ðàññêàç (â êàêîì-òî æóðíàëå?)
Åù¸ òîãäà î÷åíü ïîíðàâèëîñü. Êàê ñòðàííî, ÷òî âêóñû è ïðåäïî÷òåíèÿ ïî÷òè íå ìåíÿþòñÿ. Õîòÿ íàñòîÿùàÿ ëèòåðàòóðà ïðîõîäèò èñïûòàíèå òîëüêî âðåìåíåì.
Ñïàñèáî!
[ Edit | View ]
[> [> [>
Êàê õîðîøî, ÷òî îíè íå óñòàðåëè - äëÿ àâòîðà ýòî ãëàâíîå â æèçíè -- Þ.Èâàíîâà, 12:42:18 07/07/09 Tue
Äîðîãàÿ Âåðîíèêà, ñïàñèáî íà äîáðîì ñëîâå. ß äåéñòâèòåëüíî ïóáëèêóþ ó íàñ íà ñåðâåðå ñåé÷àñ íåêîòîðûå ðàññêàçû, êîòîðûå â êîíöå 70-õ ïå÷àòàëèñü â ñîâåòñêèõ æóðíàëàõ è ÿ äàæå ïîëó÷àëà ïðåìèè. Ïîòîì ÷àñòü èç íèõ âîøëà â ìîé äâóõòîìíûé ðîìàí, êîòîðûé òîæå èçäàí íåáîëüøèì òèðàæîì (óæå íà ñîáñòâåííûå ñðåäñòâà)íà ðóáåæå äâóõ òûñÿ÷åëåòèé(1999-2000ãã). Êàê õîðîøî, ÷òî îíè íå óñòàðåëè - äëÿ àâòîðà ýòî ãëàâíîå â æèçíè, à âîâñå íå ãîíîðàðû.
Åù¸ ðàç áëàãîäàðþ è æåëàþ òâîð÷åñêèõ ïîáåä. Âåäü ñëîâî - òîæå îðóæèå.
Þëèÿ Èîàííîâà (Èâàíîâà).
[ Edit | View ]
[ Contact Forum Admin ]
Forum timezone: GMT-8
VF Version: 3.00b, ConfDB:
Before posting please read our privacy policy.
VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems.
Copyright © 1998-2019 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved.
|
|
