Henry Lion Oldie. Puppeteer (№ 47277)

Sometimes I think real events and memories of them have little in common. Past - performance. Every time he has to play again. Thinking back, I pick up and make them dance a strange doll, another, not the one that danced yesterday or last week. Complexes, neurosis, age-related changes, shyness and pride, doubt and confidence - all new threads are drawn to the doll, sprouting in the knees, elbows, temples, feet and hands. I get the feeling they tickle the body of memory. The doll is dancing like a mad shaman, limbs jerking and shuddering in convulsions, and I think:
"Is that me? Did I do that?"
And I am glad that tomorrow when I decide on a whim to once again plunge into the river of time, I will be given: and he who looks from still today, and one that is dancing in a volatile yesterday.