Book: And their children after them. Page 1

I had to start life anew. And then the clarity of the features began to burn his gaze, and also this heaviness, this human mass, this dirt - you drown in it, it clogs its mouth - this whirlpool of relationships. Surviving among someone else's truth is the hardest part.

Over time, alcohol becomes, as it were, a separate organ, the same as the others, at least no less necessary. He sits somewhere there, inside, deep, in the most secret place, doing his job, like the heart, like the kidneys, like the intestines. Finishing him is like amputating some part of yourself.

Passions were tempered there by air conditioning. Beepers and telephones kept the gamers at a distance, cooling off mutual connections. Like-mindedness, a community of interests that had existed for more than one century, turned into nothing in this gigantic cauldron of competitive forces. Everywhere, the old joint work has been replaced by new small jobs, unprofitable, poorly paid hacks - continuous bows and squats. Nobody is interested in production anymore. Now all the conversations are about interpersonal relationships, about the quality of service, about the communication strategy, about meeting the client's needs. Everything was crumbling, it became scattered, muddy, bastard.

Then they will have to meet in secret, settle matters with their relatives, settle down themselves. It's simple. At that stage of their life, love can do anything.

Like many of her peers, Helen tormented herself with seasonal diets. Between her and her body, a kind of strange agreement was concluded, where self-restraint was a popular coin with which she paid for returning to her youth. Suffering - for vitality, hunger - for the smoothness of the skin, abstinence - for the fullness of life. True, to be honest, it turned out so-so.

Upbringing is just a beautiful word; it has a place in books and in circulars. In reality, everyone does what they want. You can get out of your skin or, on the contrary, do not care about everything, no one knows what will come of it, this is a secret.

It's funny how quickly all sorts of [unpleasant] things are forgotten when you are busy.

He never found anything to do in life: he had no profession, no wife, no crimes.

They were rushing [on a motorcycle] over the dead ground, bareheaded, incapable of an accident, too impetuous, too young, not yet mortal enough.

“Such an age,” the neighbor remarked philosophically.