Settling Sobornness

Picture of Evgeny Itskovich

The Church of my life ... This is something with difficulty spoke through children's tongue -ties, which tries in the tongue of hazel babble. This is what the path and the path ends, the path of the original is the path of speech.

Naryshkinskoy Baroque ... Barok-ko ... as if mom leads by the hand, and you are insecure and stumbling, you try the shoemaker the sole of the asphalt-baroque-ko ... Narysh-kinskoye ...
So it happened. When you approach the house, you are longing to the house, you miss, but as soon as the Naryshkin’s gold bulb smiles at you ... - Everything ... arrived! .. Happiness, awe ... at home!
The consciousness of the world of children, like the map of antiquity on three whales, will certainly end in the church. The entire area is strengthened by it and, as it were, takes it into the name.

Well, right, where else would such tenderness come from, such a fingered outstretched neck, if not for it-"cover in the films." Well, do you still have one, just listen: Phi ... this is because under the cover.

And if it is necessary somewhere far away-on the other end-not the reverse side of the moon, then the longest path of the subtarable bus ends with a transparent reflection of the red masonry with a pink kiseya solution of the walls of the convent.

- Hello, Novodevichy! Hello, Naryshkin Baroque!
I return from life.

Metro is the first step on the threshold. The metromost from Smolenskaya through the Moscow River at the level of the third floor is the second. Terrible: you drive into the wall of a residential building, and, it seems, you invade brown skin of the seat into someone else's bed, someone else's intimate life, and then, from a warm pair of copulation, you jump out into clean air, to the spacious will of the river!

- Is there a boat? Can I touch?

And there and buoy, and the pier, and granite shores! And here the river, like the heart between the ribs beats, splashes, calms down.

And then not to gleam, through a flight with a tunnel, through Kyiv and student - my tree, my round mystery. It is the first blooming and the latter becomes transparent, and then on its ruined branches a nest and a bird - a patrol of access roads is found.

So close that you get out of the window with your hand and fit the barrel in the palm of the child! Just a few ways, at the house of the railway caretaker, sliding between the rails and the unknown mastodont of the scrap metal similar to the stone conuer. But never, I could never take his leaf on his lips, and feel the green pulp of communion!

So close, but not to reach - everything is blocked by booths and outposts, passes and distrust. That’s why I don’t know my tree. Who are you - linden or poplar? Or perhaps a elm? Round, a drawing of life crumpled carbon copy on a white sheet, the Tree of the world, an all -in -law.

Sometimes trains arrange a competition, and the metro train is a train to lag behind the nearest station forever. And you are winging, fidgeting in the seat, if only your train overtook the leaving, if only your window escaped forward, even on the chest. And then you get tired, go limp. They are somewhere in another place, not to the house ... to Kyiv! ..

And, devastated, you plunge into the tunnel trans ...

Kutuzovskaya, Fili-will you ever rename you?!

And here you feel the piercing shout of the cold surface with your back.

- River!

But already another, concentrated, with a red tank on a gray body, with a low bathing shore, under a high mistral of the starry sky ... And you consider it an attempt to come to your sensation of the wagons of the commodity diverging from the bridge: 1, 2, 3 ... 30 ... 50 ... 100 ... 100 ... 100 ... 100 ... 100 ...

That's it! .. Died! ..

The access roads, squeezed out by factories, workshops - suddenly open with a dome of golden wings, and while you look, you are overwhelming the cross, the train memorizedly pronounces: “The Suvorov School, a children's park, a depot with a clock at the far end on the building. And how much is there? ..

At home!!!"

Conversations from childhood:

- Let's go to the old warehouses for the "children's park", you know, the church?

- What is stored in it?
Conversations from youth:

- In our Church, the “Protection in Fili” is now the Museum of Andrei Rublev. There will be a concert, very good music, let's go?!
And in silence I see my eyes, no - soul, no - with my heart !!!
I'd like to check out!!..

For a long way to Naryshkinsky Baroque
I was released in the early morning.
I was quietly saying bitter - cheers!
Goodbye, goodbye - it sounded like - it's time!
I bowed to the temple or rock.

And for a long time we waited for the "cover in the fili",
While I will hide in a long layer of the road,
While the troubled gods are dead,
And the sky will turn red on the coals.

3-4.06.1991. © Esi

http://www.algabriona.ru/
eciarteci@mail.ru

Even Evgeny Iskovich