* * *
The soul cries out for help when it is ill and in danger.
'I'm all good, but the soul cries out for help.
So, I was sick and in danger - she prayed - Save me, O Lord...'
And then one day...
No, she does not hit a post, simply crumpled fender, 'kissed' a taxi.
The conflict amicably solved. The taxi driver took to repair the car and did everything in the best shape, but Jan had a week to ride a taxi, and even public transport.
Once she jumped up in a hurry at random in crowded bus, which somehow raced several stops, including the right to it, where you had to pick up the repair of the printer before the end of the day.
Complaining and bashing the cab driver (he will not stop, now just over the bridge), she suddenly realized that the pounding on the reproduction, glued to the glass that separates the cockpit from the cabin.
It was Ignatius' 'Joanna'.
Color, large format, beautifully printed somewhere over the hill and apparently torn from the wall art calendar.
She had Ignatius' albums, precious gifts ubiquitous Regina, the protecting of the Muses, but they were of the small size).
On one was the 'Joanna', faded and dull. And here...
'Lady, what's happened? Do not you leave? What are you doing, idiot, screaming, banging?
Let the people go!. It is madhouse!
Tightly gripping the handle of the cabin, getting some poking and breaking off at the coat buttons and Yana miraculously withstood passenger volcano going out of in the bus.
She stood, holding hands, on the aisle, as if afraid that the miracle disappeared.
People coming in and out scolded her...
And so incredibly close loomed barely marked back of Ignatius, staring at nowhere who undertook mysteriously beautiful face behind the window, with flying in the blue twilight incredibly long hair, old intercepted twisted cord.
With childlike wonder parted lips and huge eyes, staring as if from eternity.
In a fit of pathetically desperate to catch up, to get the flesh to be reunited with the flying world in another dimension.
Doomed to separation from him, on the other side of life.
What to do, how to posess 'Joanna'?
The heart gradually calmed down.
Yana made a break away at last from the pen, sat in the front seat vacant and waited for the final stop to talk alone with the driver.
But the bus was, of course, magic.
It rode and rode myself less and less stopping.
New buildings appeared, past the ring, and he setting down last passengers flying already through some strange narrow road in a frame-baby-green birch trees in May.
It was flying as if there in eternity itself, which swayed in front of Jana in the setting sun mysteriously beautiful girl's face.
And when she stayed in the cabin alone and realized that the bus never stops, they arrived.
'It is the last stop. Or we go back to the 'supermarket'? You wanted to get off there, behave like a hooligan... And without a ticket.
'I bought it, here.
As far as Ilichevka it is ten kopeks, not five. Here's how to be fined... Where would you like to go?
'Anywhere,' said Joanna. 'Sell it to me, boss!'
'What to sell? The picture? This is not mine bu my partner's. What do you need it for?'
'Sell, this is a simple reproduction. Does he drink?'
'Who?'
'Your partner,' Joanna took from his bag a bottle of whiskey that was used for paying for the printer - however razopete and chief?
This is so, a piece of paper, it is interesting to me, no one else. A familiar artist.
Well, boss?
She felt herself blush. The driver looked at her in the eye.
Then at 'Joanna. Again at her.
She was sure that it is impossible to know, and yet fell into a panic. With a desperate determination to thrust him into his bosom jackets bottle, tore off the tape from the glass and roll it into a reproduction of a roll.
'You are again behave like a hooligan Okay, here's to your health. I only go back in half an hour, go to the pond perch. Here pond is good.'
Several passengers at the bus stop dutifully watched as he ran to the pond, waving a towel.
Clutching 'Joanna' to her arms, Joanna climbed the mound and froze, so beautiful stretches in front of her was Ilichevka. In white-pink foam flowering gardens, in a silvery green of willow on out of nowhere who undertook rivulet in the forested hills of the frame.
Over the hills in the distance swam lazily away from the city of flakes of clouds.
A herd of cows with pink from the sunset sides passed her. Mercilessly swearing shepherd waved some reason did not stick, and the transistor, from which rushed 'Fallen Leaves' by Yves Montand.
And Joanna knew that he would remain in Ilichevka forever.
She signaled the driver in the parking lot. More, more ... Ian waved, so left.
The bus drove off.
Not sit well here, in fact, feeding mosquitoes! We must try at least rent the cottage.
It was the middle of May, I suppose, put not only a decent home, but also sheds...
But Joanna knew that she could not not be lucky in this magical day. And on the edge of the village came across, finally, at Aunt Lyuba, who swore in the street with a neighbor because of feed.
A tiny terrace and a room with a stove. Spring mattress with legs, without legs closet, table and two improvised stools.
'It is wonderful,' quite sincerely said Yana.
'We are here with my husband lived until you have built. An my mother in-law and the eldest son. We were four.
When did you move in that?
'The other day,' said Joanna, sitting on a mattress 'One of these days possible?'
'You may live here. What's your name?
'Yana.'
'Okay, Joanna, you're just not forget your passport, militia checks we do. If they come, you are my niece.'
'Well, Aunt Lyuba. Can I still sit here?'
'Sit down please?'
The mattress was damp and lumpy. From under the floor attracted the grave cold wallpaper here and there they went away. The only window looked sighted on barns.
Fragments of the old tape she glued 'Joanna' to the wall opposite the window, sat down again, hearing the beating of a glass of incredible silence fly.
And started to cry, as then in St Petersburg club.
* * *
The other day, many years ago, as soon as straighten the wing, she really ran away from Moscow.
She came with linens, dishes, and her typewriter quickly clean up, hang on a window curtain, orange plastic shade per 4 rubles.
She heated the furnace, feeling like every minute it becomes easier. As a soul web gratuitous inner fear weakens, breaks.
And you can just lie down on this wet sagging mattress, listen to the pristine silence, without fear of any door or phone calls.
A TV and a tape recorder, without a buzz the elevator without a mother-in-law with her bridge gamers.
Without Philip with his awkward age, Denis with his instruments, without queues, 'lumps' and the prime minister.
No birthdays, funerals, weddings, dinner parties and no intruders...
She felt an almost physical sensation of pleasure from his reach.
Lord, how little it turns out, it is necessary.
Only to escape.
Her escape was somehow invisible. Denis was shooting in Kolomna, Kravchenko in breaks between filming and performances involved the publication of his first 'animal' book. Philip - Beatles, examinations and girls, mother in law and legwork to the doctors.
So it was a coincidence or is it too was a miracle? She just tells you that removed house, where you can work peacefully. .
Then, after a couple of weeks when they suddenly realized but it was too late.
She is out of reach, in another dimension.
She called the post office, sometimes appear on urgent business and get away again in Ilichevka.
A pile of Denis' designs, sketches, proposals gathering dust in the closet.
All, mostly about the same. A certain number of characters, one of which took was a criminal, and the rest were potential ones.
And every respectable law-abiding family man is a potential serial maniac and murderer terrorized once Moscow.
She created an opposite impression, that every criminal cases. However, it was probably a dialectical contradiction. Both sides of the coin.
Any crime is at the same time casual and natural.
How disgusting it was possible to blind character, so happy were Denis and viewer. The authorities were afraid of 'name-calling', and Denis argued that the rats have to be rats.
A run on the underground with a net to catch butterflies and funny.
She molded the fallen Dennis this ugly world, as in the early Ganin pictures. Perhaps he is and was, this world along with it, it lives and creative.
So let the rolls in the ass!
A pathologist, a professional ripper of souls in search of an unavoidable disease - she is sick and tired, Sick of it.
She dived into the first slot, and now just wanted to catch his breath.
Yana willingly helped Aunt Lyuba weed the garden, glued wallpaper, with her grandson to solve sums to Vasya autumn exams.
I read 'Animal's Life' by Brehm, miraculously turned out to poor rural library.
To drive a bicycle Vasya, sunbathing by the pond or stream, simply did nothing.
Anything, just not to return to his former life.
She gradually recovered.
Most of all she loved running around the hills and forests of Ilichevska, to exhaustion, five or six miles. In the morning, afternoon, evening - whatever the weather.
Breath slowly leveling off, counting the heart meter, and was lost sense of the body.
She possessed some sort of blissful torpor, akin to a narcotic, it merged with the land, trees, rain and wind. It was their pulse, tapping on the forest trails cardiogram them together, the mysterious, life-giving life.
Then she splashed around in the icy rivulet, rubbing hot towel and a canvas that is floating, or flying in a ten miserable their abode.
Air-weightless, almost touching the ground with old sneakers, which she dug up in his junk - even those school where she took prizes at the regional Games.
Or burning her bare heels spanked by chipped asphalt, as once in childhood.
She even thought that she back if not returned, then fell, in some approximation to the rosy outlook pore.
Most of all she liked to talk to Vasya, who also called her and Jana explain why a very tall concrete fence Leonid Ilyich growing raspberries, which is nowhere around anymore.
She recovered.
Unleash the body is also stronger, and come to terms ceased to rebel. In Ilichevka world belonged to her, and she did not belong to anyone or anything.
With horror, she was waiting for the fall. And when autumn really came shedid not want to accept. Aunt Lyuba has paid one hundred and fifty (to the cost of firewood) laid on the floor a thick carpet, the owner put the second frame, distribute the attic on oak leaves.
She brought fluffy sleeping bag and skis and not very cold days again disappear from Moscow at the earliest opportunity.
Only instead of running have been skiing, instead of swimming it was wiping the snow. And the women whispering that, they say, Lyubka's summer resident.
And the family seems to have been agreed with them. And friends, and 'high society' in which she ceased to appear.
Of course, things were done, the scripts were written, performed, and the application of the contract, cooked soups, laundry, and Philip had to watch for in both eyes, especially when the mother in law was in the hospital.
And even with Kravchenko had a couple of times to meet, but it was already like an old dress from which she had long grown. But had to pull him over and over again and suffer, though oppressed and sting.
It evolved in some new capacity, she is still not very aware that with her.
And it was not even in Ilichevka.
Some unknown force imperiously back away from it all constituent former life, and it was impossible to resist.
Yana frustrated and fled in Ilichevka simply because there was nowhere more.
Collapses of the ring on a deserted road slippery.
It was getting dark early, blinded oncoming cars, creaking of glass 'windshield wipers' throwing the snow away.
Left and right as if a second in eternity.
Enthusiastic barking landlady met Jack. Ilichevka in all dogs named Jack. Lyubka's Jack, Maruska's Jack...
Hosts are usually asleep, they lay down immediately after the program "Time", after listening to the weather.
Yana unlocked icy house flooded first thing stove folded on the terrace with wood.
And the window cried, dampen, heating, wallpaper, boiling kettle on the stove.
Yana was throwing at him different harvested in summer grass and drinking tea - piping-hot, magically scented summer bonfires and pioneer of childhood. Then extinguished the light and climbed into the sack with a hot water bottle, bottle.
Gradually warmed bag.
Fire flashes darted along the walls, on Ignatius 'John', drawing from the darkness that flying in the face of eternity, the horse with flaxen mane, then stooped back Gani, inexplicably ended up where it never was.
The carriage train, sped her on the night of Heaven ordained halves, according to ancient tradition.
The room was filled with blissful warmth, wood crackled all quiet, sleeping bag and drifted along with the lumpy bed, among the already weakening bluish flashes where waiting for a miracle.
She did not doubt that it would definitely come. What mysterious power of healing her former life, somewhere close by.
And if it's death, she wanted it.
It was irony; confused Denis now began to think God knows what.
She had to bring him once in Ilichevka.
He got out and looked at the rickety outhouse snowbound, who came on in the joyful squealing Jack. I drank at home a stack of goodies from Aunt Lyuba Anyone confused appearance of an important guest. Dennis always gave the impression a kind of master ...
And once again climbed into the car, not even wishing to dig up from the snow and go Yana apartment, which she was very pleased.
She did not want him to see 'Joanna'.
On the way back he put on it lying on his handlebars, stroked to blame.
It was so unlike for Dennis! For what he asked for forgiveness; for her getaway or a visit?
She did not specify.