Rus Articles Journal

The letter to the friend of

Passed seven years since we saw you last time. All these years I often thought of you, but did not decide to call. Already late to change something, both of us too strongly changed for these seven years.

You remember

, we always happened upon you, on the street. And after - weeks, months we met so frequently as though last time. And again left for long time. Still I lack that late sit-round gathering in the kitchen forced by empty jars from - under the coffee and ashtrays filled with cigarette stubs. In such evenings you read fragments from the novel and new verses. When I listened to you, every time was convinced that you are a genius!

U us. When I wanted to avoid undesirable appointment, I for the whole day left to you. It was called “to visit the sick grandmother“. You also sometimes invited me on a visit such words:“ Your grandmother something not very well feels, come soon to me“. I got with legs into a chair, and you sat down at a piano. Keys were obedient to your slender and long fingers as though they made with them a single whole. Bewitching sounds of romances bewitched and haunted!. I came back home only by two in the night.

... I go to the subway from the Palace of Youth where the KVN team of my institute met in a duel two other teams. Having fallen asleep in the car, I feel on myself someone`s look, I wake up, I raise eyes and I see: directly near me, with the echidna (but such charming!) you stand a smile... I already manage to forget by then how you look. And in a month (three days before New year and on the eve of examination) we went to Peterhof, to university club “Shayba“, on a party of your darling “1 - go Meda“. Came back to St. Petersburg through the wood, having hardly been in time on the last electric train.

you Remember

New year which we met together? To me as a gift you sewed a big nice bear who lives at me also now, and did not change at all. However, he still did not learn to go because you to it did not attach hinder legs. To me you promised to send an escort of ambulance cars and team of hospital attendants with strait jackets to a wedding. Now it seems incredibly ridiculous, but to me is for some reason very sad...

A I remember everything. And how after a school graduation party we together all night long walked in the rain on the downtown. And that white rose which I presented you on birthday at our last meeting...

“History of our family“ this story precisely cannot call July, 1998

, it is rather “history of my first love“. But the hero to whom the story is devoted by right is considered friend of the family.