Walking in the park

Some time ago, I decided that still summer came and it was time to take care of myself. That is, sit on a diet and start running in the park. Running in the morning for me is an impossible task, so I run in the park in the evenings after I return home.

The first thing that an unprepared runner comes across is the incredible number of companies sitting on shops and on bushes with beer banks, seeds and chips. “Well, you're,” you think. Companies take on the role of commentators , and each time , running past them , you can hear the cheerful and succumbing : “Oh! The second circle went! Something this time she is worse, "" I would better run. True, you just need to finish it, so I will overtake it. ”

Where it is not companies sitting, but in couples , amazing conversations are happening . For example, one young girl with great experience in drinking alcoholic beverages teaches a middle -aged, but obvious beginner in this matter: “You would, Zhora, when you fall into the mud, would immediately take off my pants. Well, what? You know, you have to wash them with your hands. How where? Yes, went to the river and stretched. So summer is not a problem at all. And if then they still walk like that and ask for dough , they will give it. Well, you can treat me. " And also on the run: “If you only came to my mother, she would kiss you! And you?!".

The park is generally in full swing. There are signs with information about the purchased - it seems to be somewhere there should be three trampolines, several small cars as a golf, there should be a horde of gardeners, repairmen. New benches are drawn in the pictures. Instead of all this , I stumble upon a phenomenon printed on the printer , about the fact that a maniac started in the park. The maniac attacks older people and women. What he does with them , no one reports, but they ask to observe caution and do not walk alone.

I ’m not afraid of a maniac, because I know one semi -endoic story about a girl who walked in the night along Moscow Street. And someone was walking behind her too. She is faster , and he. She run , and he. And the girl, who, of course, was very scared, confused everything , and at the moment when he caught up with her, instead of “ save her! " , Began to shout:" Hurray! Maniac! Hooray!" A maniac, and he can be understood, in turn, too, was frightened and fled. So I know what to do in case.

But do they know what to do, girls in heels, who are either one by one or with girlfriends along the main path? This is generally to the issue of rest and time. If the park - then why heels? And if heels - then why a park?

Last year, when, after a long break, I got to Gorky Park , the first impression was that the park had changed and almost (almost!) European, but the faces remained those the same. This year this impression is a little smoothed out. This place was incredibly loved by my daughter, and each of my weekends tries to drag me into Goykoy Park.

The park in which I run is further from the center. And he is not almost the park at all, but the forest. And very little has changed in this forest. Not even in a year or in two, but for all 24 years that I remember him. Maybe it became only worse (for now?).

For example, in this park you can meet grandparents less and less. Or mothers with children. Or just pleasant people. Still demolished in In some way, the yard symbol of a happy childhood is a stage at which concerts were previously given. That is, they build something else there, but what exactly and for whom is completely not clear.

It is not clear why it was impossible to repair playgrounds , and why on those that seemed to be new, you need to write those who frighten about the phenomena that it is not recommended to ride on the hills (and then why are they at all?). The garbage is embarrassed, which accumulates nearby (and well, if near) with garbage buckets.

You think I’ll go to the park and take a break from the city! And there, in this park, a city that you usually do not see. Which you try to avoid and not notice. A city that cannot be read or understood - muddy, terrible, under electric light, with terrible fates - much more terrible than the fate of political prisoners and protesters, with terrible and unkind faces.

The worst thing is that this is my city. I live in it. I managed to fence off from night vigil on benches with beer and seeds. And my yard friends - they are all there. And the children of my friends are there. And even parents. And if nothing is changed, then the grandchildren will be. And they do not know anything about what is happening in their city and in their country.

The happiest inhabitants of the park are the army of mosquitoes. They do not give a damn about whether they drink the blood of a maniac, grandmothers, companies, a couple of alcoholics, or running at night.