Who is he, the last futurist of the Soviet Union? Part 1there was a fine late March day, the sun shone, on galvanized eaves the thaw occasionally tapped, but slightly froze and sidewalks were absolutely dry. I jumped out of institute and mechanically looked at the watch: a sex of the eleventh, till five in the evening when it was necessary to get a flask in which there was slowly current reaction from the thermostat, of time it was full. Through ten minutes I already went down the street Gorky towards Pushkin Square where at favourite shashlik house “Kazbek“ made change, and already other trolleybus carried me to Arbat Square.
On the Arbat I, as usual, was interested in three places: “The military book“, is more right not shop, but its second-hand department, it was near with cookery of Prague restaurant so there I glanced at once as I got on the street. Then at a trot it was run in other end of the Arbat, there near were two more secondhand bookshops, but that day I was not lucky, the absolute nonsense, any book which interested me. All right, soon one o`clock in the afternoon - it is possible to run in editorial office of the Moscow magazine where my good friend, Anatoly Sergeyevich Yolkin, works as the deputy chief editor. It has to be already on a workplace, and it has always such tasty coffee. The address of edition imprinted in my memory forever: The Arbat, house 20, there I also went.
The door in Tolin an office was slightly opened, I without any constraint pulled the handle and entered. The owner sat at the table and with concentration read some huge manuscript. Offhand it seemed to me that it already reached the middle. When Yolkin is busy, he does not perceive at all a surrounding situation therefore it was necessary to approach and to touch slightly his shoulder. Roofing felt raised the head, understood that it I, and jumped from a chair. I was faced by the person of years under forty, small growth, with huge high temples and attentive clever eyes which were emphasized by a big horn spectacle frame.
- Volodya, the good fellow, as it is good that you came. And I did not know where today to look for you. Sit a little, Andrey Voznesensky will come now. He promised to take away me to one curious type, and to the one who interests you, - and it buried in the papers again.
Soon at a door delicately knocked and, having slightly opened it, in an office Voznesensky glanced. I did not see Andrey from memorable general run of the poetic performance put by Lyubimov on Taganka. We were not familiar with Voznesensky, and Roofing felt, for a second having come off papers, presented me to the poet:
- Andrey, get acquainted. This is my friend, Vladimir. It brought together all Mayakovsky and many any futurists. If you do not object, it with us will go. For now, children, wait several minutes, I should look through imposition of the new issue of the magazine. Today the editorial board will be, I should report, - and it buried in papers again.
- Well, Mayakovsky at me now only 72 lifetime books from 100, however, the most rare are. I know, where it is possible to buy a lot of things from missing and there is no money.
Anatoly was soon released, and we almost run jumped out on the street. The movement on the Arbat at that time was quite brisk, and we, having caught a taxi, went to the street of Kirov.
- Where we go? - I asked, having taken seat on a seat.
- You recognize itself the person - I will believe that you really the expert on futurism, - heard I in reply Voznesensky`s voice.
The usual multi-storey building on Kirov, a communal flat. The door was opened by the little dry old woman.
- Hello. We to Alexey Eliseevich, - Andrey was extremely correct.
The old woman silently stuck with a hand into the next opening door in which there was a dry old man.
- Really Twisted? - it is hardly heard I exhaled.
Andrey with curiosity looked at me:
- The good fellow, I approve.
- Andryusha, hi, brought friends. You come, you come, - and it opened the door more widely.
I looked round. The small room with a weak-sighted window was filled up with books and some papers. They lay everywhere: on the racks attached to walls on a metal bed, a table, a window sill and a floor. There was an impression that we are present at analysis of some huge book bazaar.
- Andryushechka, what you brought? - Twisted literally seized the magazine which Voznesensky held with an armpit.
- Alexey Eliseevich also here left new number “Youth“ with my poem.
- There is a good fellow, did an ill turn. Now you know what should be done? Cherkani on several words on a cover, a title, contents, where your surname, well and, naturally, on the verse.
We with Anatoly with surprise listened to their dialogue, and so far Andrey, having settled down on a chair edge, obediently signed the magazine, Roofing felt asked:
- Alexey Eliseevich, and why to you it is so much Voznesensky`s autographs?
- E, darling, you collectors the darkness, here will die Andrey, I will begin to sell them.
- And you what, you think it to worry?
- Of course, I know an immortality secret, I can share. Only all of you impatient, will try, and then throw, and I already half-lives so eat.
It removed edge of a curtain, and we saw 2 bottles of kefir and a half-brick of black bread.
- I have already breakfast today, and these are mine a lunch and a dinner.
We from Roofing felts only exchanged glances. Andrey stopped writing, Twisted accurately pulled out sheets with autographs, thrust them into some heap lying on a floor, and carelessly threw the remains of the magazine on one of racks.
My fellow travelers began to ask the owner questions, and that, rummaging in the treasures, got from there books, some manuscripts. I with myself had only several rubles, and I did not decide to leave them in this house. Purses of my znakomets were facilitated for kind one hundred rubles.
Soon we were on street and right there ran up on the urgent matters. Behind the back I heard Andrey`s voice:
- Well and the greedy grandfather, it is interesting where he money - that puts?