Holy snowdrift

When you live in a snowdrift, you can doubt that this is the best place in the world, the most reliable, the most durable, most correct. Let somewhere far away, streams murmure behind your harsh borders, birds sang and people rejoice in the sun-you know for sure that you do not need any melt water, birds pollute the atmosphere, and people should not gather in the amount of more than two without the permission of the city hall. You believe that nothing will happen in your snowdrift, even the mouse here is stained with longing and hopelessness, and therefore you can confidently look into the future.

If someone begins to tell you about the vicissitudes of the climate and the seasons, you look at it contemptuously, collect a meeting of the Security Council, consult with meteorologists, and then you stick an ice cross at the top of the snowdrift of the snowdrift. Now it is a holy snowdrift, not obeying any laws of nature. Now you are always busy. You are sculpting snowmen-policemen with machine guns and the Snow Maiden-Helpers. You specifically make sure that no heart, God forbid, and at all to be in their chest, and thoroughly verify the size of the carrots that will replace them with their noses, and buttons with which they will reinforce the surroundings of the snowdrift: everyone according to meaning and merits, you cannot make a mistake.

You assure those who have managed to get into your snowdrift, that the sun is good only at a temperature of -20, that you need to report about every attempt by the stream to break through the soil and that the heat is destructive for all living things. You are introducing an administrative punishment for those who know that there is not only snow, but also rain and criminal - for those who draw a rainbow, because the rainbow crumbles our children, embarrasses snowmen and deprives the TV presenters on the minds. Nothing can shake the foundations of the holy snowdrift: those who say that the cross can melt and that you cannot believe in God without a heart in your chest, you declare the blasphemers and enemies of traditions. You know that only you can have a hot heart in your chest: so your real God said, to whom you pray when none of us can watch you. Clean hands washed in the snow, a cold head, freezing in the cold, and a hot heart, one for all - yes, about you, about who else?

When they report to you that spring can still come, you begin to feverishly stamp the law for the law and a decree for decree. Your most faithful snowman has already introduced the winter time in the snowdrift forever, but this is not enough for you: you just cancel the seasons and decide that the Winter Olympiad will take place where there has never been winters - and now it will always be slying over the abolished summer and frozen sea. You adopt a law according to which the appearance of a rainbow in the sky is equated with a crime against a snowdrift and everyone should fall face in the snow, only seeing a multi -colored nightmare.

You decide to drain streams and shoot singing birds. The painting "Rooks arrived" you send to the farthest basement of the Tretyakov workers: now you can look at it only according to your special direction and only to you alone. Then they inform you that they saw several more surviving copies - and a pursuit of rooks begins throughout the snowdrift. One picture is found even in a neighboring snowdrift, which was tuned, but still fearing your gas anger, and they are taken across the border in the trunk of a snowmobile. No more rooks?

Do you really think that you can stop the time? That spring will never be, and the sun will rise according to your highest direction? You are mistaken. Rooks will fly. Spring will come, and the summer will come for it - and your holy snowdrift will melt, exposing the sparkling domes of real temples. And people will rejoice in bird singing and put their palms into rain drops. And then everyone will see her-your most terrible nightmare, your greatest alarm-rainbow, rainbow-fool! And they will remember how diverse and complicated the world is, how important it is to appreciate every person, every good desire and every heart. And there will be no holy snowdrift in which you hid, the snow king, who stole the hearts of his subjects. And there will be just Russia.