Who such foolishes of the present? I remember
Ya how once long ago, still the boy, for the first time saw the foolish.
This strange man hurried to come off punks. Its stooped figure dragged a string-bag with empty bottles. It went uncertainly, constantly getting off and turning around. The mocking crowd threw sticks and insults in Kolya Pervomaysky`s back. One teenager completely lost fear and, having caught up with it, gave a kick.
Kolya was developed and began to be active a string-bag. The punks rushed nautyok, and he could not calm down for a long time. Sobbing violently, Kolya furiously turned round its pivot-center and chaotically swung a weighty container. To me it was ridiculous and a little terrible. Then caused militia, and this strange uncle got to them into the car.
There were years, and I grew. It is already unknown from where, but in the head the resistant belief was created. All foolishes are just sick people with deviations in mentality, and it is better to steer clear of them. I still sometimes met Kolya around Pervomayskaya metro station which name became its surname. At times I undertook a sin and asked with a jeer: “Kohl! When bottles - you hand over that?“ That tried to explain everything, flattered with attention, incoherently lowed to me following, even without guessing that laugh at it. So I assimilated to those punks.
People are afraid of what cannot be understood. In the world where everything gives in to calculation and the analysis, the divine providence does not have the place. The florid movement of a ball pen the bureaucrat sends to a madhouse of those who do not fit into a dry framework of statistics. Psychiatric hospital - Napoleon, Messii and Andrey Yurodivy`s final resting place of the present. There on them hang up labels, sort according to folders personal records with unclear terms in the column “Diagnosis“. Schizophrenia, psychosis, epilepsy, paranoia - the whole ground for use of new medicines, the last achievements of modern medicine. And gradually Napoleon ceases to see a black cocked hat on the head, turning into half-dead vegetable, and the Messiah does not hear God`s voice in a dream. But so was not always … the foolish was esteemed by
at the time of John IV as the Saint. The meeting with it was considered as a good omen, each believer shared a piece of bread and a lodging for the night with the derisive envoy Gospoda. The laughter was the striking Procopius of Ustyug, Vasily Blazhenny and Isaakiya Pechyorsky`s sword. They fought with demons and derided the evil. Poor, barefoot, wandering on all cities of Ancient Russia, foolishes convicted wordly defects and attracted on themselves abuses of bureaucrats of that time. “God wants that people became silly in terrestrial affairs and are clever in heavenly. We call clever the one who carries out God`s will“, - the prelate Afanasy Aleksandriysky said.
The destiny brought together me with different people, but only the meeting with Vitalya destroyed resistant belief of the childhood. He constantly whiled away time in the yard and was strikingly allocated against local. The shorts tense to a breast, the checkered shirt filled in them and a ridiculous yellow baseball cap on the head. All domestic children laughed at Vitaliny stories. As the infinite rough river, its stories flowed from one subject in another, came across stony thresholds of stutter, being sometimes broken by verbal falls on unclear abuse. It left impression of finally gone mad boy to which, it was by the way, far for thirty. At that time my majority ego-tripped obtaining the long-awaited driving license. Terribly proud, I was praised by the laminated card before friends in the yard. Vital ran up and asked to allow to look. With mistrust I stretched the certificate. Having twisted it in hands, Vital was quickly lost by interest and decided to publish the following fascinating story, again having turned into “Aquarius“. So we also got acquainted.
Presently the blessed madmen who for some reasons did not get under a ball pen of the bureaucrat laugh and play the fool, expressing themselves in art. Each resident of Tver knows Stepanycha. It became a symbol of the city and sentry the temple of the Protection of the Holy Virgin. The same as at Soared, it has a gift. Every day on Stepanych Embankment crayons draws church plots. Bright iridescent domes, faces of Saints and especially favourite heavenly landscapes of native Tver. The foolish in a witness mark spends the night that at the temple, eats handouts of kind people. Those love the blessed artist for boundless kindness and open heart. Stepanych adores children, shows them pictures on asphalt and gives pieces of chalk.
It would be worth getting acquainted with Andryusha and Seryozhy, entertaining lyud on the Volgograd streets. Children are the real actors. The fancy-dress show diluted with songs and dancings touches upon the topics of the day. From where - that the got form of law enforcement officers gave to children theatrical authority. Passable on the central city streets, you can quite brake at a roadside to cling to a window out of curiosity. Not every day it is possible to observe two militiamen playing pat-a-cake or representing scenes of fights from the Chinese fighters. Sometimes Seryozha and Andryusha laugh at firefighters, pouring over each other water in fire-resistant overalls. Another time they dress up as military. Diluting performance with favourite east subject, after sung “The battalion commander - batyanya“ meet in fight of sumo.
... Approximately in a year I met to Vital the second time. Now the situation was worse. Frequenters of the yard so were tired of chatter that, having only caught sight of it on the horizon, at once threatened to visit punches. I decided to approach and play a trick on it. What surprise when Vital declared was: “And I know you!“ He blinked the eyes, raised eyes to the sky and gave my surname, a name, a middle name, without having forgotten to specify birthday and all figures of number of the driving license. I stood, having opened a mouth. A rough flow of untied phrases to Vital incurred to the abyss only to it the known plots. I regained consciousness and killed this stream: “What did you tell? How my name is?“ The eternal child in a yellow cap, dissatisfied with tactlessness, on one breath repeated all my personal data. And here as if dawned on me. Vital it is not sick, he is ingenious more likely. He has to live among people, he is harmless. And the infallible memory, perhaps, could interest scientists. Just Vital it is understood by nobody … to
It is interesting in what folder would define Jesus, come it today? Schizophrenia or megalomania? Who will begin to listen to Baha`u`llah and Siddhartha`s words in a century of the analysis and calculations? Who will be able to behold the message of God behind the florid movements of a ball pen?
Kolya Pervomaysky did not hand over a bottle, and nobody knows what with him became. The Stepanych was killed by bums near shabby witness marks at the temple. Andryusha and Seryozha do not give concerts on streets of Volgograd any more. Sent to Vital to psychiatric hospital, and he for certain does not remember either my driving license, or the children from our yard who were actually adoring this odd fellow any more …