There's a message in the Instagramm:
"Hello, this is such a scout of a model agency of such a kind"
My heart was caught in the air with joy. Not for myself, but for the pimply, thirteen or fourteen-year-old, who thought he had failed, well, nothing wrong, there are, well, live in the world other ridiculous things, and I will live.
"Hey, hey, don't be discouraged, fatty! Everything will be fine! Look! We are offered a job at a modeling agency!"
But then I moved on to the agency's page, and there - there were very strange people, cute, but not handsome, not once at all, and the photos themselves - as if a good smart student who defended last week's thesis on foreign literature of the XIX century, decided that she should take pictures too. "You're doing great" says her friends. And she takes pictures.
In general, the lousy modeling agency, lousy models and photos, too, and could not cheer up the guy in the two thousand first. Well, nothing. He will survive without my condescending messages. He's not going to go through that yet.
In the morning I decided to go for a walk. Yesterday I was at the table all day sitting down (the story, I'll finish you off, don't even think about it), and my back begged me for mercy. Sent her, a wooden one, for a walk in the park.
I had a river and a park under my house. The river is dirty, but very high opinion of itself, flies fast, for its own pleasure, without paying any attention to anyone.
Dog women walk along the river. My heroines. The same, but different, slightly different. One with quite a tiny one.
But the other one. Big. And God grant the dog to everyone, too.
And here's more. These are not my heroines anymore. Young. He and she. Fashionable. I saw such a T-shirt on sale for fifteen thousand. In glasses. Dogs with manicure, pedicure, perms, perfume. They're coming cheerfully, because the whole life is ahead of them, do the job, be positive.
And then, in the depths (there are few people here) sits a man and pulls a fat joint with pleasure. The smell of grass makes birds crazy, and they chirp for him as if just a second ago they discovered this wonderful ability. And the man breathes in - and breathes deeply, well.
I went on. Even further. I sat down on the bench. There are good such wooden benches on stone, granite, eternal supports. I opened a book. I sit and read. On the page swings left and right pale shade of the branch above his head. Stop sitting, I think you've come here, haven't you? My back falls off and he sits down again! I jumped back. I put down the book, started to warm up. Like this. Spin, spin, spin. We're still on! There are not even seventy yet. Come on, come on, use your hands, be braver than a car.
Tired.
I took my backpack and went even further.
And there's a naked man, fat and fat, with a huge, monumental man's stomach - this stomach could get some special award - for incredible achievements, but just for its scale - but no, lives in complete obscurity, and no one knows about it, and if I didn't go out today to stretch my bones, I wouldn't know anything about this stomach either. He is pleased, sleepy smile on his lips, wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, squinting at the river - there, hanging around, happy, pisses in the water the black royal tail of a big black beautiful dog. The man has a radio under the bench, and some woman misses her again, as well as yesterday, that she is there, alone, and he is here, on the bench, and he understands it, and quietly shakes his head in time.
I cross the bridge to the right - and back again, towards the house. I go a little further, to the shoulder in the fence. In front of the light there is a man, another dressed in a shirt with long sleeves and a black plastic bag under his arm - either for the funeral, or from the funeral, or just life like that - is standing and looking, opening his mouth. I come closer. And there... There is a paradise garden. A perfectly mowed lawn. Clean, transparently murmuring, quiet water in a variety of planted decorative flora winding ponds. A lot of open space, and all of it is flooded with sun, from edge to edge. Three Chinese women walk along the lawn, chirping like birds of paradise - girls, young, with beautiful slender legs in white stockings and white special shoes, and on their heads white - snow-white - caps, protecting them from the sun and celestial views of their fragile and unknown beauty. The girls didn't even turn on us. They waved their ponytails, and that's all, they went over the closed fence again.
On the way home I went to the shop. I bought three packs of universal rags for cleaning the house. And diet yogurt with bifidobacteria.
A woman weighed heavy watermelon in slippers on the cash register. Then, at the last second, she looked around, ran to the shelf with drinks and took a small female bottle. For the mood. On all this beginning new day.