Book: The bleeding city. Page 1

I got dressed in the dark and began to brush his teeth, looking at myself in the mirror, but could not stand it and looked away, fearing that you can see, if a long look at a young person without hope.

Years passed before I learned that only a few people in the world of Finance truly know what they are doing. Finance is the abstract game of bluff, a bet that those with whom you play, even a little, but still dumber than you or are brave enough to point you on your mistakes. Complex concepts are created by pimply analysts in the research laboratories of large investment banks, thrown to the broader market and are accepted without question, as something requiring no proof. As one afraid of being branded as talkers and when the markets go up, rush to buy, not wanting to expose themselves to ridicule for failing to see the good deal. But when markets fall, the real panic and traders trample each other rushing to dump assets, which yesterday were cherished as my closest friends. Over weakness of spirit and pretensions of these people was to laugh, not they possessed such power.

...as soon as she begins to appreciate its beauty, this beauty instantly lost.

My parents, when they set to work with determination and thoroughness, have this feature, with them you always feel like a kid.

A deep-seated instinct in us tells us that loneliness is the experience of improving and strengthening the soul. On the other hand, how do we know that it is not inherited Puritan reflex of saying that something we working on, it will be useful for us though?

During dinner I kept asking myself why never told my father the main thing: I don't care that he has not become some sort of bigwig. It is enough that he was there drove me to school in the mornings, sat with me when I did homework, went with me to the beach on summer evenings. I told myself that it is because of its softness and delicacy, he was not able to buy me all those beautiful things possessed by the lucky people in Edinburgh. I did not understand that if some of his projects worked, business would be taken away from us the father has deprived us of his company, his shy smiles and kindness.

I drove past a shopping center located near a train station and supermarket close by with boarded up Windows, past the nightclub, where she danced with the girls who are too much sweating and too quickly agreed, so I kissed them and fucked, because they saw in me a chance to escape from here. However, they all knew that I will not take, and therefore even faster and tried to please me.

We are all tossed ashore, we're all caught in a trap, tempted by London and money. We all waited, and when life begins.

In the unrestrained pursuit of new experiences, we took a break from his youth, and hurried to the future, waiting for us with a sour disappointment. And no one bothered to tell us that we need to absorb everything you need to wigati in memory images imprinted in the heart feelings. Because soon, only that we will remain.

In his hometown alone can not be returned. You always accompanies your Ghost of times past youth. It suggests that you see he makes from mirror. You reveal and hide elements of each other: you, maybe, hear a slight tremor of disappointment lurking in the corners of your young eyes. Frustration due to the fact that it is not rushed to his hometown on the Golden chariot "Mercedes", not a stroll on a summer evening, handing out banknotes to the homeless that live under the beams of the pier, densely obsiranie crustaceans. And you look back, a little guiltily, that life to a hungry youngster with a passion for the big city, with big ambitions, the provincial in everything from hairstyle to clothes, tying him for the time and place from whence he had escaped.

When you return home after a long absence, the parents are acting a little strange. Often speak your name, take hands, Pat on the shoulder and a Pat on the cheek, as if trying to prove something, to approve the vital legacy that he left, going to the evening time of their own life.

I love you, Charlie. Someday we'll be together. I'm sure of it. Sleep tight, honey.
I fell asleep, and her last words remained in his head, like a note, folded and put away in a special drawer where I put things, to possess which wanted too much, and that could burn, if you look at them in the face.

I confess, I'm terribly afraid of aging. Golden child there's just one problem: he did not want to go. Maybe that's why took the photo. The feeling that stops time, you don't have to think about the responsibility, nor old age, nor disease. I'm only twenty-three, and it seems almost all over now...