Читать книгу Earlyborn - Илай Колесников - Страница 6

Luisian got up and was willing to continue working. And there was a phrase which learned him a lot for he had never heard it more often than now, in the house of the weird, although ultimately kind and generous hostess. “Carry on with work,” Lunight told her little child, whom she yesterday went tending to the closet, “keep working, otherwise you will not earn for your bread, and who will feed his mummy?” And the son went away, with some sparkle in eyes, obediently going on painting tin shapes. The case was that not long ago Lunight’s husband left her. However, it cannot be deemed that he actually was with her: he had small romantic relationships that resulted in a birth of a baby. When the husband (who is not really a husband—a villain) learned that his “sweetheart” would have children, he moved in a different residence. Yet Lunight was forgiving, and that is a greatest side of poor natures, who are stuck in nasty living. Poor people see through life and will see further; they will not lose the ability to experience that it is not money which is the main criterion in society to estimate people. Even not that: a person can be still that particular person, as a matter of fact, they can be more honorable with no money; a person remains himself in Africa, and money is a supplement which leads people for existence, not enjoying the life. All poor people believe in the absence of the reason for living, as they suppose the meaning to be only a direction, which compels us to work and live with the desire to live for the achievement of an obscure goal. That is what I intended to convey now, and I feel it is time to finish. So will do I. That is the end. Thank everyone, mother-father, one who listened is well-done.

But, wait a min-ute… “Thank everyone, mother-father, one who listened is well-done,” said Lunight’s child too on the stage of a small theatre in Costa Rica. Lunight and her six-year-old son made their living by selling toys—tin cans, which the ocean surf brought on the beach; they also performed for charity in a small children theatre. There were charity providers in Costa Rica, and Lunight got approximately a half of the money she earned at the fair. So Luisian learned the chief rule of the life: “Keep working.” Moreover (Lunight was so generous today), he was told the main principle of life: “Do not worry if you cannot obtain something—it happens! You live today, and, maybe will live tomorrow, in addition to that, you know that you lived and was full up yesterday, and the other things are not the reason to be sad. And this idea helps you to live; any imaginable meaning of life bring the idea that the very reason for being is simply to be, to live, and only this makes you happier, only for this reason you should work hard. Yet if you do work hard, but do not manage to do, what is then? You have clinched your aim – you are alive, and with you carrying on working, you may finally double what you have achieved.” There was, obviously, some fruit of Luisian’s deductions in these words for Lunight did not baffle her child with them. Everyone does doings, which they deem useful for themselves. At any rate, Luisian realized that it being always cheerful is a must, particularly when you do not know “How can I be alike? Speculating about being cheerful, following the life principles and dealing with life this way, Luisian spend the first half of the day and that marvelous time when you just start your doings, and it is like you do not live, but eat some fresh bread of life… Unfortunately, everything comes to its end, and these reflections blew away. Luisian got down to business, and those high spirits that attended his mind in Costa Rica faded away. Actions were required, and Luisian, as never before, started thinking over his situation. He sat, pondering about the development of diverse events and gazing at the life river called the World Ocean.

***

It was already midday. Dionysius got to the airport in San José and bought tickets on two planes: to Atlanta, and then to Paris. It cost him much money, yet he was a cheerful person, as all people in the South America (how could! We should try that!), and did not care about money. Furthermore, he considered money to be evil, and as soon as money fell into his hands, he spent it as soon as possible. That was more comfortable for him. So was now: he took some money from his bank—a massive wooden chest with handfuls of golden coins, which lay there for quite time, as a family inheritance, he decided that if he was going to do a good deed, money must be used. Dionysius had to be in the plane in a couple of hours.

Looking at a stream of red taxis, lined up in such a manner that it reminded car racers gathering there from the entire town, Dionysius contemplated the variety on one hand, and, on the other hand, the sameness of towns on the Earth, in which he was. Take these palm trees. Or the sky, an old white building, similar to the White House in Washington, and the slightly cracked from the sun dry light-gray asphalt—all this Dionysius could not digest with the thought of what, he wondered, he would see in the narrow snow-covered Paris streets. He, eventually (maybe because of the heat, maybe because of his hunger), concluded that similarities and discrepancies, life and death, love and hate, even the globe and everything beyond it—is one and the same thing, as though we compared the snow and the rain.