Character: Olga. Page 1

Sad but true: the less money we have, the more often we grab the wallet.

There was a silence, interrupted only by the monotonous Champ Charlie. The guys exchanged eloquent glances. My credibility was on the scales contrary to a terrible mystery, which was kept institutionalized children from adults. If not for a broken paw the dog, I would have never managed to equalise in the battle for children's hearts.

- What is he?
Head
- Big?
Small.
Oh, a little head, so ashamed to be.

Only one moment of true love is able to transform ordinary life into eternity.

- But it was not necessary to give the woman promises to fulfill them now. snorted Olga. <...>
Taras was just pale with rage - like any inexperienced males, she is the "one-two" seduced by the ancient world as the female methods of kerosene, being relegated and "vinovataya" men.

She wrote as I found the Park extremely beautiful toadstool on a stump, sat down to consider them... and suddenly began to cry. And wrote to me that, looking at these charming toadstool, she believed in the Creator. "If there is such a beauty even in poisonous mushrooms - wrote Olga. Is it possible to imagine the human soul without its Creator?" "Honey, you asked me not to cry, and cry. Sitting near the tree stump with toadstools and a beautiful cry. People look at me like I'm crazy. I'm afraid to approach. And I think about why people can't be happy? It is so simple. You need to stop to hate, to condemn, envy. Need to fall in love. And happiness engulf the whole person. He had no time to think about things, about anger, about the grievances. People will learn to love, to sacrifice, to help. Why, Glib, people are evil? I laugh with joy that you have with me, and at the same time crying about the people. Why? Why don't they want to be happy and take happiness from others? Oh, something was tight in my chest. Misgivings come in mind, but I get to sail them as you were taught. You are wise and kind. You're my home. She cried a bit, and it became easier. And again I rejoice in our happiness and bathe in it as in warm water of our sea. Remember? Mulberry tree. Peach garden. Sea. Night. Moon. Star. And we with you. No one to help. Just me, you and God... Yes, Glib, sorry, but I think I believed in God. Now, when grief is mixed with joy, I believe in God. I want to believe in it as a child. This can not be, to our happiness left in the ground, and disappeared in the usual dust. Don't believe it. It will go in the ground, but will sprout in the sky a rainbow, which we'll come to each other. Love is eternal, my dear, it is."
Yes, my young friend, it happens once in a lifetime: we do magically loved each other. We all had one. Love us for eternity. So she wrote in her last letter. Only much later I learned that she was terminally ill with leukemia. As if sensing the proximity of the passage to eternity, she wrote to me once: "I'm restless, darling. We had a thunderstorm. I dismissed bad thoughts, like you asked. And forced myself to be happy, and she roared Beluga. What is it? I will not, my love, you disturb my letter. Now stop crying. No longer write. Yes. Write. Write about joy, and her eyes raw. No. No! They're wet from the rain. Yes, of course, love. From the rain. You do not worry about me. It's just something wrong. I do not understand that. It does not matter. I write about the rain. Yes! Force myself to write about the rain, honey.
I love the rain, any, heavy, rustling, demanding or gentle... In these moments I keenly feel the unity with the world. It manifests itself in some kind of minor euphoria, it is soft but very beautiful - a beautiful melody that I like to dance barefoot".
The next day she died.

"Dear Glib, Hello! - wrote Olga. - Get letters from you, and, believe it or not, crying from happiness. We need each other, my joy, this is given very rarely. It's really a sort of divine Union of two souls. And what about romance?! Yes. Me all this time good-naturedly laughed my girlfriends. They love me very much and tried to pull out of status "do not want". They knew about my dislike of her husband. And familiar, and something provoked, and I ran like a lamb, and kept talking about their High standards, without which I don't need anything. And all the arguments like: age, women's health, etc., - said: to each his own. And I need Love! Well, in General, Glib, without a physiology to live, though, at times, difficult, but without love it is impossible! And felt the last of the Mohicans. But no, not one I am..."

No, I'm just for justice. Why, as a good and kind - always poor, but as rich - certainly villain. So I thought, that it is easier to enrich the kind or rehabilitate the villain? I think I have a second easier get...

Attack is not necessarily rush to the fight - didactically said Olga. - To attack is to make unexpected enemy actions, breaking his plans.

- Here you must know people, and you came from outside, didn't you notice, how smart she is?
- I noticed that, that she was a poor...

- Gennady Pavlovich!
What?
- Husband, it seems, knows everything! - with a solemn dread she said.
- Do not confess in any case. Men are trusting the Indians.

- Well, Sarah Bernhardt... and what do we want? As I understand it, the answer will be?
- Angry? Great! Great! Weak heroines, only bad plays! And we play good, good!
- And if I'm not strong? I got myself one over!
- And still play! Play! Until the curtain is not closed - play! Play VA-Bank! Do you understand? Otherwise deadly boring to live!