So, he decided, he had to go and ask for forgiveness when he felt right. It was a matter of the most usual, ordinary, slip - the garland twisted over the lintel and touched the chandelier in the living room, but as the plug did not reach the outlet from the wire, but the multiplier was not found, it was supposed to extend the wires, but they are short and it’s not clear what to do in peace without a quarrel. She said one option, and Alex sought his position and eventually had to leave for an hour or two, breathe, until the answer would have jumped out on its own, otherwise the celebration would have passed in the dark.
Chapter fourth.
In the early morning, behind the sun-awakeness, in the sixth hour of day, Alex Ives came home, changed clothes, went to the bathroom, washed his hands, and pouring green tea from a coffee can into a faceted pale blue glass, thought almost out loud:
"After sunset, as the sun awakens, I still think that even the light is trying to shine in the darkness of the big gray clouds in the sky. Every day, from morning to night, I begin to think about the future, but desires close the exit when bad thoughts go nowhere. When it is hard for a person - in emotional and logical sense, theater and performances seem everywhere, characters take to an imaginary stage, they advise us with different tangled voices, and you need to find the strength to return to yourself, think and find the truth. Or does it seem so to me? That was strange moment in the life movement made me look better in far places, but still I stood still without steps for change. The lightning bolts in the sky are so long and so slow that I will never watch the scenery of my city at night. I'm tired of seeing strangers on the road at midnight, when I opened the window a bit to watch the sunset..."
Obviously, all thoughts were mixed - from those that were during the day, rare curls appeared, as if the clubs of fog had come off and evaporated, and the new ones slept, surprising and alarming, although these feelings were kind of the same thoughts, but he did not attach special importance to them. My head was spinning - or rather, a nervous state was present, after a long hike along a dark street, my hands ached in palms and wrists, but depression and desire to go to sleep overpowered the desire to go to the living room, take boxes of Christmas tree decorations and hang festive garlands all over the rooms. doors to the windows. But there were a full ten minutes left before Alex could see the magnificent British salute, which flew after volleys of gas and metal dust across the sky in different directions. He was preparing for a celebration, but his girlfriend was sleeping in her attic, not wanting to see anyone and anything, even contrary to the traditions of the new year. Christmas was better than New Year, and the guy himself knew this, but years earlier, after visiting the outskirts of Russia, he was ready to learn the latest recommendations. It is strange, and yet it could be so, no matter how much he wants.
Chapter fifth.
Like a bulldog, bored with nothing to do, Alex Ivey looked out the misted window, saw the fireworks, understood above the roofs, soaring under the clouds, falling waves of spray somewhere far away, leaving a rare, pale tails, like the tails of comets, flying on seasonal nights.
He, confident in his alleged remorse, wanted only one thing - to explain to the friend the truth and try to make peace, so she also realized the error and went to meet him.
However, she slept and she has dreamed in dream about than something, or tried to flee from monsters, which often come in nightmares, when anyone did bad actions, - guy not knew this.
Sitting at the table, on a rare "Elizabeth Second`s chair", an amateur photographer flipped through the film on the camera, looking at the images of faces - himself and Veronica, made on Halloween eve, last year.
It's funny, but the feeling of serenity and happiness faded at every mention of Walter Berrow, when visiting the subway, when discussing presentations and thinking about him, if he (Walter) could be a capricious phantom, not giving the traveler to squeeze into the cave of free life.
And there, there and here, he followed his orders and advice, directing attention to the pictures he will still have to create and exercise for five hours in a dark studio, not sleeping and not EV nothing, except the salad of peppers, cheese and seaweed, coffee and sugar sticks for the conservation of energy in the moments of the night vigil.
In any place guy waited uncomplicated advertising "The search for photographer or stylist" or annoying booklets, glued to the walls or scattered on stone floors with themes of "Where seek or as order practitioner photo".
Processing oilcloth, magazine or any paper demanded a lot of diligence and exhausted nerves, if this nonsense continued for a long time, but Alex managed to realize an important idea: not to associate and not to ask for contact with someone who could torment light special effects and flashes from the photo lighting.
He was again tired, rubbing his eyes, thinking about the freedom from it all, but being afraid to remain without work, did not venture to come into conflict with a programmer who knew his weaknesses.
Even one mistake, and he would fly without money into the abyss of darkness, and all the works would go against him, because they had bad sources.
"Having woken up, having woken up, once, in the morning, in the tenth hour when other people with might and main worked, went in public transport, went a foot course on their affairs, sat in other houses, different offices, and did various circumstances of action, I realized that there were many thoughts in my head, and I realized that these are my thoughts, not someone`s else.
I learned that I am part of society, part of the ordinary society of people, and yet: I have to learn, I have to work, and to bring home to eat, too, it is necessary to clean up and create comfort, and in General, that only no count.
I noticed that my time was going somewhere at an incredible speed, but I didn't do anything so difficult, just thought about it, what worried me that day.
Still, it's like I'm bound and silent for no reason. I didn't care about other people, I didn't think much about myself in the last few weeks, and other things, it's not important for this moment, because there are duties that need to be performed.
Go and clean yourself up in the shortest amount of time, cook yourself and yourself a small sandwich of chicken pie and sunflower oil with cucumber, eat it, and drink tea with a tiny pinch of cinnamon. Otherwise we need to buy that and economically, and that tomorrow has enough of it. This is the meaning of my one-day life, with which I sometimes find it hard to live and unthinkable to die. You don't have to do anything for that..."
Catchy, bright, with the number of different colors of the marker you draw pictures for posters and presentations. Reading texts for speeches.
You use speech cultural expressions, stylistic and speech, logical and moral mistakes you correct. You edit the work of scientific professional literature as if the sculptor is a wooden solid dry product.
You're not going to read it at the morning meal, leafing through the news on the netbook, looking at the clouds that have stopped in the sky, and looking occasionally at the head of the VSP, with a gloomy look giving instructions, tasks, plans that need to be done in a shortened deadline.
"Why all this? For what? Is that what you wanted?" You ask yourself, leaving the building of your work, looking around, crossing the road on the Zebra, on the green light.