A story-feeling, written literally in 2-3 hours by me 3 years ago.
WARNING: Lots of letters, sad text.
Rain… Cold, inhumanly cruel downpour… Two weeks of continuous downpour. Water. Water everywhere. Above, below… The world has become discolored from the constantly looming clouds. The gray sky, reflected in the gray water, rose above the monotonous roofs of exemplary identical houses… Only at night could one see the luminous spots of burning windows in the houses opposite.
The upstairs neighbors turned on the music again… Again they are trying to escape from this monotonous noise of falling water… In the apartment on the right, a child is crying… For a week and a half it has practically not stopped… Poor mother… Very young. And alone… Her husband left after learning that she was pregnant. Such a scandal has started. He screamed for half the city that she was cuckolding him. And then he got ready and, satisfied with himself, left. He left, leaving the crying girl alone in the apartment… But she loves him. And I didn’t even think about cheating… It’s just that this goat… is afraid of responsibility. He didn’t care about his own “offended” honor and dignity. He probably wants to stay free. Baby this is no joke. You need to tinker with it. Diapers, feeding, sleepless nights… Weakling. And now the child is two months old, but the boy has no father. Father married again. And I already managed to have a mistress. Cattle.
The neighbor behind the other wall is also sitting on the windowsill. Like me. Only I’m sitting alone. And he is with a bottle. Drinks. Drinks and gets angry at his boss. In the roar of rain outside the window and music from above, I hear only indistinct muttering. Sometimes words like “goat”, “bastard” flash by… More often than not, something unprintable. There’s a dog barking from downstairs. So distant… As if pitiful… The dog is tired of the rain… He wants the sun. He wants to go to the beach, play with the owner… But the owner is now sleeping behind the store counter and there is no one to calm the dog down..
Because of this rain, the city seems to have died. It’s like something very big was turned off. People suddenly found themselves alone. There are more people like me. I see it in my eyes when I walk down the street. They began to… Think. Make sense of your own life. Because there is nothing else to do… Just drink cooling tea in the kitchen and look out the window. The window, like a faulty TV, showed the same thing all the time… Gray noise. That’s why I had to go outside to clear my head. With an umbrella, without an umbrella – it doesn’t matter. I took a black raincoat and left the house. I sat on an empty bus and drove… I drove… I drove… Until I came to the river bank. On a low hill. To where my thoughts gradually became clearer… To where I spent the best moments of my life. I’ve never been here in this weather before. Because of the rain, the shore was washed away, and it looked like a long black worm. The other shore was hidden by water hanging in the air. Hundreds, millions of drops of water frozen in the air for a moment. And in each of them our whole world was reflected. And then the drops broke off and fell down. Millions and billions of copies of our world fell into the river, onto the sand… into the wet black forest. And then the sky merged with the river… There is nothing further than the river. There is nothing closer than the sky… Either the sky is drowning in the river, or the river has grown so large that it has become the sky… Or they have merged into a single whole.
Bus wheels, spinning leaves, crumple the asphalt… Under the windows, the road is divided into several parts by dark lines of rubber wheels… I open the window and peer into the opposite forest… The child behind the wall suddenly falls silent… It looks like the mother has put the boy to sleep… And I continue to sit on the windowsill and pluck the guitar strings… The best thing you can compose is composed precisely at such moments. When the muse of loneliness comes. The poems fall into even lines… The music is easy to choose… But in just 2 minutes everything will be forgotten… But it’s worth it. Suddenly, the wind sticks a yellow poplar leaf to the window… Wet, torn… It slowly slides down the glass. The neighbor finishes the bottle and, opening the window, throws it out onto the street. Fifth bottle in the last three days… And the leaf crawls so slowly that you want to teach it to run. I go to the kitchen, turn on the kettle and turn on the radio… “… according to weather forecasters, the cold front should leave tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. The rain will go away with it… And now advertising…" I turn off the radio. I hate advertising. But the weather forecasters haven’t been able to say anything useful for a long time… I take off the kettle and pour more cold water into the mug. I top up the tea leaves and add sugar. I take a spoon and stir the tea..
And the rain keeps lashing the window..
Best comments
Why would I throw poop??
No https://candylandcasino.uk/ one here should or is required to read what I write. Everyone’s right, for that matter. And I call it all Art Chaos in order to somehow stand out and attract attention)
And then they don’t throw tomatoes either!(I’m joking)
Well, considering how much art chaos there is already, you can call it Anti Art Chaos))
Actually, I originally wanted to talk about game theory. Not a mathematical theory, but a psychological one, where games are taken wider than just computer games. But people didn’t support this topic at all, and shouting into the void is not the least bit interesting.
Now I just left the old prefix as a company sign like. If you like, let it count as the name of my blog, since there is no way to name them.
