Where there is no humility, white snow flowers grow and mountains invisible in the darkness are just waiting for a careless companion who will turn around at the call of an old falcon imprisoned in an iron dungeon. Those who dreamed turned into birds, became completely old and flew away into the eternal dream of a warm paradise. And you draw everything here, you all look at what is happening and you can say that someone called you by name gently and with measure.
By drawing a few lines on rough grey paper, you can draw the sky, water, trees, and all this will be a single, very tiny landscape that will remain in your memory, perhaps someday it will be displayed on an old wall in a London gallery.
The pure blue splashed in the water, reflected on the surface, chose the world into itself and gave birth anew, as if someone was driving invisible cleanliness over the white clouds, spinning them…
Ducks swam around, quacked, dived, looking at small fish in the depths of the clear water.
Are you drawing?” the voice was uncertain, in its secret inner movement there was some kind of tension and crackling, like that of a fading fire.
"Sorry, I can't hear you…" She reached out to the dark earphone and pulled it out of her ear… "Now you can talk, so what did you want…?"
"Are you drawing?!", – the voice trembled a little again.
– "Yes, a landscape from nature …"
The golden earrings moved, turned silver, the two snakes moved and froze.
"I've never been able to draw landscapes from nature…" – the voice crackled like an old record…
– "Landscapes do not always turn out on paper … I usually don't draw them, only sometimes I indulge so much …", – she looked at the blue sky and the black silhouette of a seagull flying over the blue water.
They were silent for a while, one smiled inside …. the viscous dragon descended to the bottom, twisted into a ball, he fell asleep, and perhaps he was waiting …
– "I usually paint with watercolours or gouache … I take jars with me, but I come home dirty and all dirty … then I wash off the paint … And I take water directly with mud, put the glass into the water and fill it up so as not to carry with me…" She smiled again.
– "It is difficult to draw with watercolours from nature and gouache too, it's easier with wax crayons or children's chalk …. With chalk you can just get the effect of oil paint .. It looks like it, isn't it?", – she opened a sheet of a dark album and pointed to blue and white patches that together formed the landscape.
– "But I didn't think that it was possible to write with such simple materials…", – two snakes moved.
She took out some crayons, turned away the second sheet of the album and drew a few lines, first in one colour, then in another, and so on until almost all the crayons were tried, except for black wax.
– "You see, almost professional pastel, very similar and costs almost a penny, you can save money and paint with inexpensive materials … ', – it seemed that she was convincing herself.
She did not like her landscapes, only the process itself gave her pleasure.
She stood up, "It's too cold in here…"
She rubbed the crow leggings, erasing the white narrow stripes of crumbling chalk from them – "Production costs … You will draw with crayons, you will become all white like a ghost .."
She wanted to dissipate, but the inner tear glassed into the very heart, she dissolved in viscous blood and died there, like her sadness …
– "Which direction do you want?" – she stretched out the words like a rope from one to another …
The birds were flying and screaming.
Then they went between the hills. The water splashed close to the shore, dirty and disgusting, and crows croaked on one of the trees. The grass rustled, it was almost dead, if not for the roots…
They walked for a long time, unsteadily, somehow sharply sometimes turning along grey paths on which grass did not want to grow, when they came out onto the asphalt road to the highway, the evening unfolded its cover and she somehow felt awkwardly thirsty. A yellow bus with the sign "9 d" passed by.
She remarked: – "I once drove it to work .."
Earrings held out – "Yes …", – they held strangely catching the fading day, trying to refrain from themselves.
They went near the bridge, built fifty years ago, passed by a huge puddle, passing it from two sides.
Then we went down to the water…
– "I want to smoke ..", – the golden snakes unravelled the words like a thread on a long rope, – "maybe they are smoking, she pointed with her little nose at two fat people with small French mastiffs …
Probably not… At least they don't have matches..
"Why do you think so…?" – the snakes flashed their eyes..
"Smokers usually smoke…" She turned her head to a small stone on the ground and looked at it carefully.
Golden snakes went along the road, rounded a puddle, got their foot in the mud… Then they returned…
"Did you get matches?"
– "They quit smoking …", – she hesitated, thinking something to herself, – "how did you know that they don't smoke …?"
"They look like someone who has quit smoking or is trying very hard to quit."
The sky turned blue, sank down and the pink stripe began to narrow, as if the lid was being closed on the cauldron, gradually and measuredly…
After they parted, she led her to the steps, went down to the store, looked at the green inscription "Euro …".
And something inside her broke, she curled up like a snail and died there, and the golden snakes left…
DoubleSpeak 