However, each time I drove past this house, I remembered the young man, and I didn’t ask what his name was, maybe ask Eugene, although it’s not worth it and yet I remembered his amazing picture, some kind of very unusual, literally airy truly fabulous, everything seems to be as usual, houses and paths, trees and sky, but everything is wrong, really fabulous, that was probably what pushed me to meet him again, but what to say, he’s good for me and sons in art, I do not really understand, amateur. And yet, in order to discard any doubts and unnecessary thoughts, I deliberately arrived at this house at three o'clock, climbed onto a creaky, terribly close elevator, as they do here, even though they are raising something, the same close stairways you won’t raise it, I thought, going up to the green door, and she was the only one so wonderful.

I called several times, silence, waited a minute and then called again, at last the door began to rustle behind the door and the lock squeaked, and it opened. The young man’s face was wrinkled, his hair as a ruff was sticking out in all directions, as if he were climbing a pipe to the place of the brush.

“Hello,” she told him in a friendly way, she wanted to be really indignant, saying that they did not make the lady wait so long.

“Sorry, I watered the flowers there,” and he waved his hand somewhere behind his back.

- Can? - Without waiting for an invitation I asked.

“Yes, yes, come through, I'm here now,” and taking a few steps almost knocked down the boards in the corner.

The smell of paint, how long ago it was, I remembered it for the rest of my life, once in St. Petersburg I was already in a similar workshop, they are not much different, before they were provided to those who entered the union of artists, and after who could buy squares, but they looked they are all the same, a room with junk, blanks, depending on who did what, wood, clay, paintings or metal, the room where everything was going on, it’s also an exhibition room and if the area allowed it is a rest room, because almost all the artists live here , well, another kitchen and bathroom, that would wash hands.

I remembered this smell, he seemed to have ingrained in my subconscious, there I was in St. Petersburg for refresher courses, I traveled a lot and I got carried away by one artist, I don’t even know why, so romantic, Peter, alone, nights and homesickness, or rather by sex. Then I was already married and gave birth to a son, he was three years old, Max was always on business trips, received the post director of weekend broadcasts, and since the restructuring, everyone was looking for something new, something different from a building, so they roared with the operator and a correspondent in all cities and towns of the Tyumen region. I love him, but somehow at work everything began to erase, it became commonplace, you no longer feel the taste of food, you don’t honor the warmth of the sun, you just run and run, and here in St. Petersburg it fell into place, and he also. Handsome, like in a movie, a beard, a torn scarf, dirty hands from colors and forever said not like that, and that is what stuck to it. And it was in his workshop that I cheated on my husband for the first time, but I didn’t want to, I just got giddy, I wanted affection, tenderness, calmness and satisfaction from sex, but none of this turned out to be, except that sex was, but he was so strange, that I don't even remember anything, the feeling that I went into the bathroom and came out a minute later without feeling a surge of strength from the water.

It was a complete disappointment. There were several opportunities on the side, but refused, afraid that everything would happen again. If a woman says that she never had anything on the side, then most often she is cunning or was not possible, the case, but when he is, both the woman and the man try not to miss it.Ah, I regretted it later, I just don’t know what, about the fact that I didn’t dare or because I was just not active, strangely enough it’s as difficult for a woman to find a partner on the side, like a man, we all have We’re not ready for everyone’s stereotypes in our consciousness, we’re looking for our ideal, well, almost ideal, but after a doubt, but in a friend it will come out, that is, fear for ourselves, for family, no matter how home it is. But if everything develops as if by cards, then doubts go away and become temporarily free from obligations, the harm would be just a one-time flirtation, a one-time second, without obligations and consequences, but you let off steam that has accumulated in you, emotions, satisfy hunger of feelings and you again live an ordinary life, like everything, as always.

The smell of paint, I stood in the hallway and breathed it, it was nice to remember, long ago it was, a long time ago, all that was bad was forgotten, only the smell remained unchanged. The young man emerged from the bathroom, in a hurry, combed his hair, tried to smooth his hair and everything fussed around me, inviting me to enter the workshop. Yes, all the same dark pictures, but among them were bright, like a ray of light, they were his.

“By the way, Galina,” finally decided to introduce herself and extended a hand to him and immediately added, “Nikolaevna.”

- Leshka, - he immediately reported and shook hands, - maybe tea?

- It seems you wanted to draw?

- Yes ... yes ... - he said stammered and quickly jumped out of the room, - I am now, settle down.

- And who do you want to be? - after him asked him, the answer was not followed, only the noise behind the wall.

“I am ready,” Lesha appeared at the door, holding in his hand a large piece of paper attached to it, “I want to arrange the books,” he suddenly returned to the question.

- Books? - I was a little surprised, I imagined the artist is the person who draws pictures.

“Well, yes, now the illustrations in books are lousy, oh,” he said, “sorry, bad ones.”

- Why? - and sat in a chair, standing in the middle of the room, probably specifically for the model.

“And ... here ..." he began to stutter again, put down his cardboard and took the book from the shelf, - these are the poems of Omar Khayyam "How wonderful is the lovely face."

I took from his hands a weighty book and immediately turned my attention to the first cover, on it in the graphic there are two figures of an old man in a turban and a young maid that she would lie naked in front of him. I started flipping, almost every drawing was with a naked girl, but it all looked so romantic, so light and calm, I gladly began to look at the drawings and even read the poems themselves, but more I was attracted by the drawings themselves. Chest, thighs, oval face, languid look and plump lips, gentle, sexy, beautiful pictures.

- And ... here is another book, the same poems, but the pictures look at them.

She picked up a book and expected to see something more romantic, but she saw the chopped bodies in the place of it as if they were hewn out of raw clay, it was just awful.

- Now you understand what the difference is, he, - Alex meant the artist, - didn’t even read the text, so he drew nonsense.

I listened to his reasoning and occasionally inserted words; I usually speak my professional habit first, but now I listened to his reasoning and I liked them. I sat in the chair, but he drew me, I don’t know how it works there, curiosity was torn apart, but I sat and waited patiently, but he talked all about energy, about the state of the soul, for which a person lives, that the main thing is love and joy from the simple that surrounds us and this says the boy, who did little else in his life, but spoke as if he had lived more than one life. Surprised him and continued to listen.

Finally, he finished and said that it was only a sketch, so that I would not judge him harshly, it seems he was even embarrassed to show me because he remained seated, in other matters it was embarrassed. I walked over and looked at his shoulder. Not a white paper, a woman was drawn in charcoal, I immediately recognized myself in it, my shoulder was pulled up, as if I was covering myself from splashing water, my chin was lowered, I want to hide my nose and not wet it, but my back is bare and my naked nipple looks out of my hand, he so brazenly stuck on this figure, that unwittingly felt like blushing.

The first desire to rebel, but I'm not a girl, he surprised me again, he was younger than me and twenty-two years old ... Read more →