The Onion

Lena! Lena!

No. I will never go back there again. Just the shadows of existence, unhappy people, my hopeless pain, oozing juice, rotten milk, torment-enough.

I run - let me run. I may act like a coward to someone-to Legar and the entourage – I know who, but it's the only way I can get rid of the meanness, the vile abomination that I've been plunged into.

What was the abomination? Very simple. Just elementary. I. Am. Not. A herd. You belong in a shitty paddock, in a small, IKEA-furnished cage; you and you and her - you are all cattle, if you do this to your life, if you do this to me, to my hopes.

By the way, here's the cash register. One way to Petersburg, please. Yes, a reserved car, in the middle. The next one at ten in the morning?.. What a pity. Here you are.

Across the road is a whole dense forest, subordinate, trimmed by a man. I always run away from a party wearing heels. Well – I'll go anyway, there's even a light there, I hope nobody will kill me. That would be unpleasant.

I always wanted him not to say those words to me. What is this - I love you. Isn't it strange? That is, it is like writing a person "Hello", and then "how are you". What's the point? Why spoil this bright, rather fictional feeling with your everyday surroundings, smells of food, wet sheets? How cold it is…

The smell of grass, the smell of lilac – why was it so sweet to bathe in them before? Have we forgotten about everything? What has become of our desires aroused in the spring? One of them? Where are they now? Are they still alive in my heart? Or have they become a thick protective layer on soft, vulnerable tissues? What if I am someone's trail of lilac enjoyment? After all, can I really be one? No longer…

- Yes!..

What is this amazing voice, strange and funny?

- Yes!..

I really don't know who's answering me!

- Yes!.. Hmm-m-m.. More!

Clear. Fans of ticks. They clung to each other in stinking sweat. I feel sorry for them. The man silently persists. I feel sorry for him. He shakes the tree with his hands. Clinging to it, it impresses into the gray-gold one. Into the gray-gold bark, this tiny white woman. I feel sorry for him.

What an evening! Why did these lunatics come here today? Why do they water my open wounds with their vinegar? Where to put this huge piece of meat that is stuck between my throat and mouth, which is also my body, but destroys me as a person?

L-Lena L-Love

NO! One more word! No!

You called me, tell me now, for what purpose? Tell them you're getting married? Glasha, Masha or Dasha? Or, as you said, to have a party before the holidays? After all, Glasha? Not funny yourself?

And I say NO, even though you insist that it was decided a long time ago – no, and I know that you will not merge with this mask. Look at my face! Come on! Look! No? Why not? Aren`t you afraid to use their tentacles in a new, bright soul, even if we assume so, even if we assume that you... No...she's happy, She listens to you with an open mouth, but if you asked yourself the question, what's it to you, Roma Legar, friend of friends, a grown man with problems... Maybe you carry her at night in this park? No! I don't want to know it.

She came to you today, right after me, didn't kiss you, saw me for the second time, and I'm not even sure it was her. So what? You say: say Hello to my Lena. Listen, Legare, you didn't piss yourself a too large piece of territory? Do you really think that you can drop orders from your tongue, pin someone around you with them, okay to me, a beaten bitch, but Glasha? A little puppy? I just don't understand you…

"Guys, I have gathered you today to announce my engagement to a wonderful girl who is known to all of us for her honesty, kindness and beauty. Let's drink to my bride – Aglaia…»

"To my bride" is it okay that she was sitting next to you? Why did you need this third person, this daddy tone in your voice, these antics? I would say honestly – I want to marry an apartment. Or-managed to forget what a hymen is. Or – Glasha good at sucking. At least something! But you said what you said and so for "my bride", Roma, I'm sorry. How dare you call me. Throw shit in my face and then yell at my back. What for?! To ask for more?

Ah!

Well, these heels didn't do any good. I've wandered too far. Meat, don't knock. Now. Let's sit down and get some air. Yes. Now let's calm down.

Still, I feel like crying. A bubble of shame bursts out. Painful shame. But to whom?

To Glasha – shimmering and pale, which, maybe never existed, and all this was a joke? To a sick, fragile child? In front of Legare, trying to get him out of my crumbling, frail life?

L-Legar L-Love. How stupid it always was, but how warm. From those old dusty pictures, where nothing has happened yet, but we have both already dreamed everything and lived in dreams – equally and irrevocably, with the conjuring techniques of a medium-illusionist.

I dig for a long time. To see at least one drop of honey gold in the endless waves of anger, injustice, torn underwear. How sorry I am that you and I, both of us, that we are so trained, so constituted, that we set our main desires as military fortifications, watchtowers around vulnerable souls. What would I do if Glasha refused you? You would have died of injustice-you lost two women in a month, this one is exactly the same, only younger,but it's all wrong again. What would have happened then? Then I would have died, too, but from longing.

But no one will die – everyone will marry on the contrary-and damn it! It won't be us – strange invalids mended with felt blankets, with blood consisting almost entirely of chicken broth, I know, it's tempting. And you know, and I don't blame you. We are all men, Legare, you and I, we are all men and women.

All I need is for you to keep your ability to find a drop of gold, even when the wave of broth overwhelms you, even when you drown, with your essence, with your soul – search, search for it, dear, even when you cry that you can't find it. Perhaps somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, which will open to both of us, we will find our common source again, go blind, and stop searching.

May! I breathe you in, and I feel so good; because you are me, you are my present. I just want life to be an endless peony may, sweet, sunny, with a sizzling thirst; a thirst for everyday continuation. I would always like to describe your laughing eyes, to see them and desire them - I want a life to come, a life that is drowning, thinned to the core, two steps from death, and acutely, acutely beautiful!...