Читать книгу Where I am from. Why I am here. Where I am going 2.0. Memoirs of an alien онлайн

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Another half hour of leisurely conversation and even the neighboring tables will learn about my youthful dream – to play jazz in New York, the lack of Russian-language manuals at that time and about my interest in English. My selfless story in fluent English is interrupted by an unexpected remark from one of the Americans: – Good evening!

Following the gaze of the foreigner, I turn around. I see the burning eyes of a twenty-year-old waitress who is imperceptibly standing behind my back, such eyes are in the audience when you perform virtuoso passages during improvisation. – Good evening! – the waitress, somewhat embarrassed and with a slight smile on her face, watches as I, with my mouth open, again turn my gaze to the Americans. – You have to look better! They nod.

Night. Immersed in difficult thoughts, I walk along the freeway. This concrete monster was specially built by the last suitor of the princess for fast driving and frequent dates with her. But according to local residents, the shortest way to the Principality is the iron one. And many, like me, chose this very path. – Hey! This is my canvas, – a long, skinny girl in a leather jacket blocked my path. – There is a fork further. Maybe we will disperse. – There are only two rails. – But there are a lot of sleepers! – Ash Lithuanian nyasuprantu. – And I understand her very well.