The Origin

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It has been more than half a year since I left a good job in a large financial company and became a freelance journalist of a glossy magazine well-known in our city and even outside it. I did not feel any incredible literary gift suddenly emerging inside me. Rather, my eyes got open. Ten years of life spent in the office communicating with the same people day by day, from morning till night, eating almost the same food, and thinking about the same things; you know, it dulls the whole set of feelings and narrows the worldview, as well as the communication circle. You start to get slowly covered with a shell that reliably protects you from outer intrusions – new emotions, contacts, desires, and ambitious plans. You become a part of a closed, reliable and very comfortable system.

Still, the Universe took pity on me and decided to give me another self-realization chance. Somehow, this chance brought me to journalism. Apparently, having abandoned the system, I began to explore the surrounding world so eagerly that the flow of new emotions could not stay inside me, so I needed for sharing them with other people. I found no better way to do this than writing opuses for the periodical. Hundreds of service notes, letters, texts for presentations and projects written personally and edited for the staff positively affected my ability to arrange words.

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I cannot say that I was inspired by the task very much. I had to master the «enlightened» one’s tedious book and similar contemporaries’ pseudo-scientific researches as well.

Later, standing in the shower, I thought that the task was not so bleak in general. The remains of negativity were erased by breakfast and strong coffee. OK, I will touch the genius by taking the interview. Studying at the university, we stoically survived dozens of hours for philosophy-like lectures.

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