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Release the past that no longer exists...
Past that no longer exists...I used to be very shy about his past. And then I realized that you cannot fear what is not.
Manuel suddenly squeezes my hand. We stand beside a road and waiting for the green traffic light. Cold, dry, but I warm boots. Don't quite understand what's going on. "You see that house near the post? There I last saw my mother," he never looks me in the eye. "She..." — trying to ask. "She just left". Manuel even stronger squeezes my hand, and suddenly I remember.
***
March floated snow mud around the city. Cigarette butts on the concrete walls blurred ads written by hand. It's getting dark. We Lesko in jackets three sizes too large, go down the street. At the corner someone is lying and coughs hoarsely. Leska squeezes my hand. I look. "It's your father," I tell her. "Please, just let's go by." I hear he coughs and spits. The dirt around. Look at Lesko, her eyes become glass. She looks at me, says, "Please just let's go by." Us for thirteen years, March comes through, I squeeze Leskino thin palm with chapped, rough skin, I swear never to let her go, we just pass by.
We descend into a manhole on the iron stairs. Downstairs stinks of damp, but warm. Oval room with a pile of old blankets. "Come on, don't worry, the Bruise," the Pumpkin grabs me by the waist with strong hands and helps to descend. His head is big and clever — that's why he Pumpkin, and my hands are constantly blue, even in summer — the name caught on instantly. I sit down on the blankets. Drink beer in a circle. It tastes terrible, but I'm embarrassed to admit. From drunk we have not drunk, but some strange sit. "What are you objectutils? Normal long hair was," says Karas. Lera smiled: "Mother said I had long hair, like a witch. Said I got a haircut I got a haircut". "Your mother, as a witch". "Shut up. Myself what better? End up in the Slammer". — "Who told you that?" — Carp strains. — "Everyone says. All the teachers say. And... and my mother says".
Carp throws a plastic bottle into the wall and in a second flies into the street. Everyone knows he likes Valerie. Everyone knows about Larkin mother. All all know everything. But are silent.
***
I walk into a room. Take off the boots and then put them on the battery and socks. Toes bake like they rubbed hot coals. I want to cry. Froze to death, cut them off immediately? Leska said: "Olga, play "Moonlight Sonata". Olga sits down at the piano and begins to play. From Lesko purple bruise on her cheek. She sits next to me and tightly grips my hand.
***
Green light. We with Manuel moving on the road.
We are not responsible for other people's words and deeds. We do not choose his childhood, we do not choose the betrayals and the nastiness of people who are close to us. They decide what to tell us. We can't choose what it will be the words. It is their responsibility. It's their choice.
Our choice not to carry their choice of a life.
I order a latte. I have the warmest boots in the world. I don't have to hide with friends in basements and pass. Home is not where you were born and where you love. We are born into different circumstances and, growing up, needs to build his own house.
Not born at home — your home can only create. The house that we will not let just anyone.
But on the old, rotten Foundation, it is impossible to build strong supports.
To build your house (inside and outside), you must first let go of his past. Then we can build a house anywhere in the world. Yet. Goodbye.
Manuel let go of my hand, looked at me and smiled. published
Author: Tamriko Sjølie
P. S. And remember, only by changing their consumption — together we change the world! ©
Source: splash.project-splash.com/posts/proshlogo-bolshe-net/13313374da1
Manuel suddenly squeezes my hand. We stand beside a road and waiting for the green traffic light. Cold, dry, but I warm boots. Don't quite understand what's going on. "You see that house near the post? There I last saw my mother," he never looks me in the eye. "She..." — trying to ask. "She just left". Manuel even stronger squeezes my hand, and suddenly I remember.
***
March floated snow mud around the city. Cigarette butts on the concrete walls blurred ads written by hand. It's getting dark. We Lesko in jackets three sizes too large, go down the street. At the corner someone is lying and coughs hoarsely. Leska squeezes my hand. I look. "It's your father," I tell her. "Please, just let's go by." I hear he coughs and spits. The dirt around. Look at Lesko, her eyes become glass. She looks at me, says, "Please just let's go by." Us for thirteen years, March comes through, I squeeze Leskino thin palm with chapped, rough skin, I swear never to let her go, we just pass by.
We descend into a manhole on the iron stairs. Downstairs stinks of damp, but warm. Oval room with a pile of old blankets. "Come on, don't worry, the Bruise," the Pumpkin grabs me by the waist with strong hands and helps to descend. His head is big and clever — that's why he Pumpkin, and my hands are constantly blue, even in summer — the name caught on instantly. I sit down on the blankets. Drink beer in a circle. It tastes terrible, but I'm embarrassed to admit. From drunk we have not drunk, but some strange sit. "What are you objectutils? Normal long hair was," says Karas. Lera smiled: "Mother said I had long hair, like a witch. Said I got a haircut I got a haircut". "Your mother, as a witch". "Shut up. Myself what better? End up in the Slammer". — "Who told you that?" — Carp strains. — "Everyone says. All the teachers say. And... and my mother says".
Carp throws a plastic bottle into the wall and in a second flies into the street. Everyone knows he likes Valerie. Everyone knows about Larkin mother. All all know everything. But are silent.
***
I walk into a room. Take off the boots and then put them on the battery and socks. Toes bake like they rubbed hot coals. I want to cry. Froze to death, cut them off immediately? Leska said: "Olga, play "Moonlight Sonata". Olga sits down at the piano and begins to play. From Lesko purple bruise on her cheek. She sits next to me and tightly grips my hand.
***
Green light. We with Manuel moving on the road.
We are not responsible for other people's words and deeds. We do not choose his childhood, we do not choose the betrayals and the nastiness of people who are close to us. They decide what to tell us. We can't choose what it will be the words. It is their responsibility. It's their choice.
Our choice not to carry their choice of a life.
I order a latte. I have the warmest boots in the world. I don't have to hide with friends in basements and pass. Home is not where you were born and where you love. We are born into different circumstances and, growing up, needs to build his own house.
Not born at home — your home can only create. The house that we will not let just anyone.
But on the old, rotten Foundation, it is impossible to build strong supports.
To build your house (inside and outside), you must first let go of his past. Then we can build a house anywhere in the world. Yet. Goodbye.
Manuel let go of my hand, looked at me and smiled. published
Author: Tamriko Sjølie
P. S. And remember, only by changing their consumption — together we change the world! ©
Source: splash.project-splash.com/posts/proshlogo-bolshe-net/13313374da1
