- This is a fortress. Walls. The citadel should not let anyone in and should not let anyone out. The citadel must keep within itself all that is in it. She is not like the world outside. Totally. Everything is different there, but it will not show it if you are afraid. And if you are locked up in this citadel, then there is no way out, you will stay there.

- Why not find a way out? - I interrupted Arseny to ask an important thing for me, as it seemed to me.

- Because in this its meaning. This is all symbolic. If there is this citadel, and someone is there, then he will not find a way out without breaking it. Otherwise, it simply does not make sense. It is erected for these purposes. This is how to make a wheel that does not roll. But this can not be. If the wheel is made, and it really is called a wheel, then it will roll. So here. If it is a citadel, then there is no way out of it.

- Well, under the citadel can be understood anything. It may be just an ordinary fortress. And there is an entrance and an exit.

“This citadel is not just a physical fortress.” This is a locked space. And its whole essence is this. - He turned to me. His face was serious. I did not see such seriousness on him when he told me about other paintings before. - See? - he stuck his hand into the picture, where exactly I was not clear. - There are exits. They are, but they are not found. Or even so: the one who is there himself will not find them. Can not. Or do not want. Otherwise, why make a citadel, from which you can easily get out or where you can easily get into the grocery supermarket? This stronghold holds more on its purpose than on iron or concrete. In general, I do not know. Of course, everyone will see his own, this is normal. I told you what I saw. - In the end, he relented, and I began to recognize his usual tone again, with which he narrated the stories of creating his canvases. - Come on, take it off. Your picture is now. - He smiled, in his words I did not hear regret. Rather, it was like a caring dog handler giving good hands to puppies of a thoroughbred sheepdog. I think he even became pleased with my choice.

I took the picture off the wall with care, as if I were shooting a large crystal ball from a stand, then leaned it against the wall.

- No, let's put it in the tube, then bring it. Or do you want?

- I would be framed right away. And then I like her then?

- She understands easily. It is not glued, it is simply fastened with pins. A picture in a tube, a frame we will sort, we put together, we wrap a paper, and at home you will collect then. And so you can accidentally poke the canvas.

- Yes, let's do it, indeed, it is better to convey a whole, albeit with the assembly disassembly.

- Yes, here is the assembly, not really. Okay, let's go get some tea. Tell me yourself how. - Arseny called me to the kitchen. I readily agreed.

In fact, apart from surrealism, we almost did not have any other points of convergence of interests, but at the same time, we always found something to talk about. Probably, the main common point of such was the ability and desire to discuss absolutely any topic. Arseny could calmly speak on topics that were interesting to me, and then we discussed topics related to him. And it was not necessary to invent, hide their true opinion. In such conversations, I felt free, I calmly expressed my opinion, without fear of offending him or somehow offending him. He understood everything and always reacted adequately. True, and I tried to understand where it was necessary to stop and not to bend the stick.

After a couple of hours I was already sitting in the rocking subway car, holding in my hands a tube and a bundle of ceiling baseboards that Arseny used to make simple frames for his paintings.He briefly told me how to stretch the canvas on the subframe and then insert it into the main frame. I didn’t even think that putting a canvas into a frame is a whole science. I was pleased. I already know where the Citadel will hang in my room. Therefore, I could not wait to get to the house more quickly and to do the assembly of the painting first.

I tried to carefully stretch the canvas on the subframe, precisely measuring out where I would fasten each bracket so that the canvas was evenly stretched. It was not easy, but overall it turned out pretty well. With the same scrupulousness, I chose a place for the screw in the wall. First, I will plug a dowel into the drilled hole, and then I will screw a screw in it, the picture was not easy, its size was not less than a meter in width. Therefore, the mount had to be strong enough, a simple nail would not fit here. In addition, the nail - it would be somehow simple. I wanted to make this action a little more difficult and give him more effort.

As always, in the bustle of domestic affairs, the weekend flew by unnoticed, as if every day off began immediately in the evening, after which night fell, at least in the evening I managed to pay attention to how quickly the time of the current day passed. I forgot about the team game for which our department was going. So much easier. The thought that I missed such an important event did not disturb me during the weekend, and only now I am trying to come up with an excuse for my absenteeism. Although what should I justify? Did not want and did not go. It seems simple. But no, I can not say so. I did not want to become a kind of such an outcast in the team. Although, an outcast, of course, loudly said, but I am sure that for some members of the team, it is to them that I will become. But my head is now and so crammed like an old closet, in order to try to shove in there more and more worries about the fact that I have not rallied with our friendly team.

Between me and monday there was only night. Now I will go to bed, close my eyes and wait for the onset of sleep. Which, like a predatory spider, will first wait somewhere nearby, without even showing its presence, and then suddenly pounce, so that I cannot understand when and how it happened. Slowly and carefully will wind me with its sticky silk thread, until I finally fall asleep. But I can no longer tell when I'm going to sleep, and when I'm still aware of myself lying in bed. It always surprised me. As adequate and realistic thoughts turn into complete nonsense, overgrow with absurdity, but at the same time I can easily shake it off, clearing the thoughts again, bringing them to a tidy state. But if you do not do this, then you seem to fall into them, as if in a swampy quagmire and fall asleep. Moreover, it is impossible to catch this moment of transition.

Exactly the same, I did not understand the moment when I again got to my tower. I felt like sitting on the ground, leaning my back on the cool stone wall. I slowly get up, peering into the landscape, as if trying to notice something new in it. Why am I not there in the distance where I have been appearing all this time? I am now at the very wall, where I stopped last time, before my awakening. I turned my head to the wall and pulled it up and could not believe what I was seeing. The wall of this citadel as if descended from the picture of Dvorak. The same hooks, a small ornament at the top of the chain. It is possible that this citadel only symbolizes something, as Arseny said. Then she seems to me the way I can see her. Or which one I want to see. After the picture, I had an imprint of Dvorak's citadel in my head. Apparently, therefore, it seems to me now so. More distinct. More detailed. As if, until today, I saw it only as a sketch, as a mock-up, designed to simply indicate the presence of some object. Now it has opened to me full, complete, with it, probably, it is already possible to somehow contact.

I backed away, lifting my head up to see the wall in front of me properly.Now I look at her as something familiar, my own, she does not scare me anymore. Arseny said that in his citadel there is an entrance and an exit. Maybe he was in mine too? If it has changed, under the influence of my thoughts or something else, it is likely ... Read more →