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What happens then, after You
Eighty two million eight hundred twenty five thousand seven hundred eighty eight
© Henri Cartier-Bresson
Recently I was in the apartment in the center of Moscow, which is handed over immediately after the death of the owner. Launched a huge apartment with a back door.
The new owners – a very long and apparently very greedy relatives. They didn't, not removed, not tried to save. And to live in such an environment was strange — without the permission to touch all that the owner came out to the bakery.
The first time it seemed, someone to come see me and say the voice of the teacher: what are you doing here? But no, nobody came. Near the TV skein floss. The buttons in the vase. Czech colorful glass, beautiful, but were in constant operation — one of them is clearly often drank wine. Glass photo import girl in gown and cap with tassel. In the closet neatly Packed winter coats and boots type boots. Fresh calendars in all rooms – flip, detachable, wall mounted, straight sort of mania. Then followed the time. The kitchen in the cupboard unfinished vitamins "Coral club". Here were going to live long and comfortable. No drugs – no one was sick.
The hostess lived alone in three rooms. In the bathroom, different shampoos for kittens. Everywhere the cat's strong spirit. The cats here was the Royal position, and, apparently, they pushed the crowd following the coffin. And great library. Not decorative, when the pages are glued together and the books selected by color and height. And so alive, read, seen life updated library, for fun, without the snobbery. And albums by Filonov, and Chinese philosophy, and chase with Ustinova.
And many more books about grandpa's landlady. Thick-pretesting, much thicker than the Bible. In several languages. Everywhere about his Communist world the significance of his genius and gratitude of the people for his acts. So I came from the street, and if I had a fireplace, I could keep the fire with this paper. Then it would be at least some benefit.
What is left of this man? Moscow apartment renting that distant relatives may no longer work.
Heck, you can die at any moment, and anything that was dear to you, will not be expensive anyone. Yes, there are children, but they want nothing of mine. They have their own. Lord, everything in our material life – all these are little things, such ridiculous and insignificant thing. Yes, and we ourselves…
It turned out that still I had hope for immortality)
And now you'll never be anything to save, to equip and to think about later. Life is impossible to build once and for all, it can only continue day after day.
And save — only experience, to live only now — to have something to remember, when nothing will happen. They showed me what happens THEN. Nothing. Just come strangers, trample traces, and brew in your coffee pot.
источник:snob.ru
Source: /users/1077
© Henri Cartier-Bresson
Recently I was in the apartment in the center of Moscow, which is handed over immediately after the death of the owner. Launched a huge apartment with a back door.
The new owners – a very long and apparently very greedy relatives. They didn't, not removed, not tried to save. And to live in such an environment was strange — without the permission to touch all that the owner came out to the bakery.
The first time it seemed, someone to come see me and say the voice of the teacher: what are you doing here? But no, nobody came. Near the TV skein floss. The buttons in the vase. Czech colorful glass, beautiful, but were in constant operation — one of them is clearly often drank wine. Glass photo import girl in gown and cap with tassel. In the closet neatly Packed winter coats and boots type boots. Fresh calendars in all rooms – flip, detachable, wall mounted, straight sort of mania. Then followed the time. The kitchen in the cupboard unfinished vitamins "Coral club". Here were going to live long and comfortable. No drugs – no one was sick.
The hostess lived alone in three rooms. In the bathroom, different shampoos for kittens. Everywhere the cat's strong spirit. The cats here was the Royal position, and, apparently, they pushed the crowd following the coffin. And great library. Not decorative, when the pages are glued together and the books selected by color and height. And so alive, read, seen life updated library, for fun, without the snobbery. And albums by Filonov, and Chinese philosophy, and chase with Ustinova.
And many more books about grandpa's landlady. Thick-pretesting, much thicker than the Bible. In several languages. Everywhere about his Communist world the significance of his genius and gratitude of the people for his acts. So I came from the street, and if I had a fireplace, I could keep the fire with this paper. Then it would be at least some benefit.
What is left of this man? Moscow apartment renting that distant relatives may no longer work.
Heck, you can die at any moment, and anything that was dear to you, will not be expensive anyone. Yes, there are children, but they want nothing of mine. They have their own. Lord, everything in our material life – all these are little things, such ridiculous and insignificant thing. Yes, and we ourselves…
It turned out that still I had hope for immortality)
And now you'll never be anything to save, to equip and to think about later. Life is impossible to build once and for all, it can only continue day after day.
And save — only experience, to live only now — to have something to remember, when nothing will happen. They showed me what happens THEN. Nothing. Just come strangers, trample traces, and brew in your coffee pot.
источник:snob.ru
Source: /users/1077