Бесплатный фрагмент - Hotel in paradis

Hotel in paradis

Only now did he realize that a day trip to the city he knew was not an ordinary trip, it was a long period of time that passed like a day… Waking from his morning sleep, the black hair of his beautiful lover tangled in his fingers, he slowly got out of bed, taking his beloved into his arms for a long time, passionately kissed her, looking at the clock. He hastily ate his breakfast, drank coffee… It was a normal day of his life when he threw himself behind the wheel of his car and counted the city’s burning traffic lights late one by one, recalled the birth of his children and his duty, which he considered to be serving the Motherland… A hectic, weighed-down, lazy day against the backdrop of life leaving as one day… Boredom in the twilight, discussions with friends who believe they can rebuild the world, tomorrow will not matter, the funny reasoning of those who could not resist his talent, and the tedious conversations of unreadable colleagues conclude the night; there’s still that night when you don’t wake up in the morning…

But today was another night. In his dreams, everything happened in the same place. Only tonight was a bit different. He stood behind two mountains. The waterfall, which pressed them against him with huge hands on his shoulders, flowed off the cliff, flowing into stone thickets, held side by side with the mountains as a sign of greeting, creating a clean lake. Oaks, linden trees, pines, hawthorn, blueberry bushes on the bosom of two mountains hugged and kissed each other. It was the very place that had been repeated in his dreams for several years. But on this night, the foothills of both mountains were now surrounded by a blue sea. He went to the sea and dipped the water. A salty, familiar smell struck the nose. He was scratching his head. This sea was born from his own tears, which flowed into his heart…

In today’s dream, he emerged from the sea and cycled along a mirrored road along the shore… Suddenly a hotel appeared on the right side with windows overlooking the sea. He stopped in front of the hotel and leaned his bicycle against the wall. He went inside. A man appeared at the entrance to the hotel. When he carefully studied this man, he realized that he knew from somewhere. It passed into the grand hall of the lobby. A stranger stuck a gold chain that hung around his neck in his mouth and chewed… “You won’t leave us alone here either… Don’t you let us get high?

“Let’s say I happened to come here on a bicycle. What are you doing here?

— This hotel is mine, — said the chewer of his chain on the cheek, — Where do we run from your hands, we want to live without…

He wanted to take a bicycle that leaned against the wall. A tired old man in the guise of a metro hotel approached: — Do you know me?

“No, I’m sorry.

“I saw with my own eyes the documents that this hotel, which you built with blood and then, belongs to you,” said the metrodotel and disappear.

He woke up. It was half past nine. I drank a cup of coffee and went to work. There was no way he could remember that the beautiful hotel he had seen in his dream had ever belonged to him…

ADAM’S DICTIONARY

When I am alone, I speak to myself in a foreign language, the origin of which I still cannot find. For example, yesterday, when I called my friend who is a composer, let’s go for a walk in the park near our house, my friend said: “You made a good call, I was going to pick you up.” I need a thousand manat urgently. I say debt. When you come, bring me so that I can walk willingly, today we will cover a distance of ten thousand steps,” he laughed. He himself said it in such a way that if you don’t bring a thousand manats, I won’t even come for a walk. As soon as I promised him a loan and hung up the phone, I shouted: “Takama sasa!” — these words, the meaning of which I did not understand, seemed to be said by someone else who spoke this language from inside me, the “translation” according to that situation was probably as follows: “My stupid head, you are the kutumats that no singer wants to sing (probably the translation is “banal song” means) why are you calling this shumutta (egoist) who is the author, after all, he has a headache for a thousand manats?” Hearing my screams, my wife came from the kitchen and asked, “Why are you speaking in your own language again?” I answered him again in my own language: Amada takama sasa tuta. Kkhı mataka. Yamasa kasa mitita, Yamasa kosa mota, Yamasa kutumat.

You know, my wife already knows the “meaning” of some words, since she has heard this language that I speak to myself for a long time. Because to me “why do you call stupid people?” said and left.