Раз-два-три, ветер изменится - Глава 9 отрывок 6 - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Perhaps I was worth it more evenly to this revelation. Say, discuss him with someone at the Academy as a bad film, which was recently played in the auto-Kinotar. Or make a note in the fields of the notebook: "Never again to empathize with strangers." Of course, I could find a more adequate solution than to reach my apartment and, clutching the thorny branches to the chest, like a kitten selected on the street, close in the bathroom. I should not scroll at this moment again: a step - and a feeling of unique delight, childish joy from the fact that mom no longer needs to hide from his father, father no longer needs to get drunk because he hates his life, his brother will no longer wake up In a cold sweat, fearing that parents will find out: he is gay, gay, and nothing can be done with it. A step, one small step from the wall into the living room: the tree shimmers with blue and red lights, and the brother cries quietly, pressing his palm to his face.

If I knew before that I would spend so much time in the bathroom, perhaps I would install a shelf with books there, a small coffee table for playing a bridge and a mini-bar under a mirror. My house is not my fortress, my house is my battlefield, and only in the bathtub, wrapped in a terry towel, sitting next to the prickly spruce paws, pressing my forehead against my knees, I feel safe. My most vile enemy is myself. I, pulling up to the mirror and looking at my brave face; I, gripping my cheek and wiping a jacket on a jumper. I. Only I.

And to be with such a person in a closed room for seven hours is not the most reasonable idea, if only because after forty minutes of my imprisonment, my head starts to get sick. I am a truly shitty interlocutor: instead of relaxing and restoring my breath, I think solely about what my friend with wheat hair was supposed to worry, killing his parents, that he had to feel the rest of his life later. And I do not find in my thoughts in this regard at least a hint of relief. Most likely, in his life, full of pain, there was even more suffering that he had to endure. One way or another, I would have to kill someone either himself or others-and he had an over-examined show, so suicide was not a way out.