ego golovu i ne vozvrashchaya na mesto. Golova ego smeyalas'. Ni o kom. - Ty vnutri menya. - YA ne znal, chto ty uzhe eto chuvstvuesh'. No menya net. YA lish' pytayus' ostavit' tebya v pokoe. - Ty ne vynul ruki iz karmanov, kogda prishel ko mne, ty ostavalsya obrazom. Kakim obrazom tebe udavalos' eto? - Neuzheli ty eshche ne ustala govorit' zagadkami? Gorit li noch' tvoimi glazami vse tak zhe proniknovenno, kak v pervuyu noch' sotvoreniya mira? Togda ya byl sovsem molod. Pomnish'? A ty govorila, chto ya - samyj krasivyj starik v mire, no nikakogo mira eshche ne bylo... Pomnish'?.. Pomnish', kak ya smeyalsya nad tvoimi frazami, a ty obizhalas', kak rebenok. Malen'kij. - Ty vnutri menya. Delaj chto-nibud'...... - YA znal, chto ya stanu toboj. Ty. - Ostaesh'sya soboj. * * * Nel'zya ostanovit' Robina, ego ruki uzhe istekayut krov'yu, ego sobstvennoj, seroj. A Anzhela ne hochet zhalet' ego. V kakom izmerenii on pritvorilsya mertvym, nikomu ne bylo ponyatno. Robin lish' spal v kakom-to iz izmerenij, i Anzhele nravilos' nablyudat' za nim, spyashchim. V tronnom zale zhitelej ego dinastii gotovilis' zabavnye intrigi. Devushki prosili proshcheniya u dostopochtennyh molodyh lyudej. YUnoshi lovili kajf. I dyshali v ushi devushkam, no o svoih pohozhdeniyah potom im bylo priyatnee vsego govorit' drug s drugom, delit'sya svoimi vpechatleniyami. Izuchalis' marshruty rodinok elitnyh nevest. Robina nel'zya obvinit' v melochnosti. On izurodoval svoj osobnyak, no ego lico otdelilos' ot golovy, otdelennoj ot tulovishcha, chto ne pozvolilo glazam uvidet' rezul'taty malen'koj vojny svoego hozyaina. O sebe. Menya pogloshchayut chuvstva, oni rozhdayutsya v zhurchanii vody za oknom, v pesnyah 20-letnej davnosti, oni kradutsya parkami i pereulkami staryh gorodov, kruzhatsya v trezvone telefonov, zvonkov v moyu dver', oni propitali iznoshennye veshchi, i vdrug oni ischezayut v moem razobrannom diktofone. Vremya golubyh nochej. Ona uzhe ne byla malen'koj devochkoj, i poezda, ne zaderzhivayas' v ee gorode, nadolgo ne mogli vtorgnut'sya v ee zapahi i sny. Ona vsego lish' raspadalas' na chasti, ee telo razlagalos'. Nikto ne znal, gde ona hranila klyuchi ot dverej vseh zamknutyh lyudej. Kto-to zaglyadyval v vodu ee glaz, komu-to ne terpelos' rasputat' ee volosy. Ej bylo priyatno, kogda on zahodil k nej v komnatu i proiznosil eti slova. Na ladoni u nego byli lepestki ee lyubimyh cvetov. On ne smel prinosit' ej cvety, otdelennye ot kornej. On pomnil, kak ona plakala, uvidev mal'chika sryvavshego cvety u ee doma, v kotorom uzhe nikto ne mog zhit', tak kak veranda byla zapolnena magicheskimi predmetami, i lyudyam kazalos', chto oni postepenno umirayut, skitayas' sredi neizvestnyh komnat i okon. Lish' on mog vhodit' k nej v komnatu s lepestkami na ladoni i proiznosit' eti slova, kotorye ona zabyvala, esli ulica polnilas' shumom dozhdya. Noch', kotoraya utonula v volnah severnogo morya, utaila ee popytku tancevat' na vetvyah paporotnika neizvestnoj strany. Ee lyubovnyj vzdoh prosochilsya v pesok korallovyh ostrovov. Ej nikto ne vstretitsya v utrennej dymke tropicheskih kompozicij. YA ne hotel narushat' ee pokoj, voploshchennyj v progulke po naberezhnoj uyutnogo goroda, na stenah kotorogo rosli cvety, i ih nel'zya bylo predstavit' umirayushchimi. I ona sposobna prekratit' svoyu progulku lish' v tom sluchae, esli ona uvidit moi glaza, bluzhdayushchie v vode. * * * On znal, chto kazhdyj iz gorodov budet po-osobomu reagirovat' na ego vizity. On oplevyval kamni, pomechaya mesta, obrekaya goroda na svoe prisutstvie v kazhdoj ih chastice. Slyuna bystro pronikala v himicheskuyu strukturu. ZHila Anastasiya na Poslednem pereulke, a Karl - na ulice ZHivopisnoj. I ne videli oni drug druga sotni let. Vse uznali ob ih nesovmestimosti, no situaciya podtalkivala ih drug k drugu, no byli lyudi, kotorye mogli smenit' im pasporta i uvezti v raznye strany, otpravit' v protivopolozhnye miry, nauchit' ih govorit' na drugih yazykah, raznyh, no, vidimo, i on, i ona predpolozhili, chto imenno blagodarya etomu oni smogut vdrug ponyat' drug druga, i soshli s uma ot etoj mysli. They have gone in the books of TV stars. They don't know even why. Alto changed his mind and started to recover. She found out the way out. He knew where is the way, but he did not realise how painful it was to be out of the way. We are drinking in the bar of lost desires and recall how beautiful we were before somebody told us we would be happier no more. We thought we would ... so long and dramatic awaiting. Don't worry, baby, everything's just going to be fine..... no seeking for my hands ... don't you feel them. Don't you fly alone in the most fabulous space sleeping in the synthetic minds of your groovy toys. Morning will come with the news that no more well is drilled in Kazakhstan. Everyone should know. Stars are deeper in the pocket. Two lines on the escaping surface of my face are clearly seen in mirrors of invisible desires. And eyes are starting to rain. YA nachinayu novyj etap ohoty, i popytayus' pojmat' v seti vseh devushek s dzhinsovymi sumochkami, v kotoryh obyazatel'no otdyhayut zheltye stranicy bibliotechnyh knig, pozvolyaya imenam vnutri sebya lyubit' drug druga. YA vyslezhival devushek na koncertah samyh modnyh muzykantov, v pretencioznyh klubah, na prem'erah potencial'no kul'tovyh fil'mov, v magazinah sovremennoj odezhdy, gde mogli prodavat'sya sumochki iz dzhinsovoj tkani. I, kazalos' by, ya dolzhen byl vstretit' devushku iz kafe, no ee ne bylo, a ya zabyl, gde nahoditsya kafe s kofe bez sahara i cvetami, mertvymi, naprotiv. Pticy ne mogli mne podskazat', kuda ischezla ona, ne poproshchavshis' s nimi. YA zvonil pianistu, a on razuchilsya govorit', a rasshifrovat' ego muzykal'nye partii ya byl ne v sostoyanii. Odna devochka ela morozhenoe, ne obrashchaya vnimanie na sutoloku goroda, u kotorogo Devid Grej prosil proshchenie za to, chto on ne sumel ego razrushit', a lish' vpisalsya v ego sistemu. Reklamnyj blok neozhidanno zakanchivalsya i nachinalsya zanovo, i mne prividelos', chto devushka pryachetsya mezhdu kadrami rolikov. YA sprashival u dal'nobojshchikov, ne uvozili li oni v dal' soedineniya solnca i luny devushku, obezoruzhivayushchuyu vzglyadom. I dazhe kogda ya sredi beskrajnih trotuarov bezumnogo mira krichal neistovo neznakomym mne golosom neizvestnye mne slova, i lish' ona mogla menya ponyat', ya ne chuvstvoval, kak svet ee glaz, kasayushchihsya moego vzvolnovannogo dyhaniya, pogloshchal nevedenie v nevidenii. A Anastasiya utonula v neftyanoj skvazhine. Ty slishkom vpechatlitel'na; ya nachinayu somnevat'sya v tom, chto u zhenshchin pravomerno nekoe edinstvo soperezhivanij, kogda ty smeesh'sya moim shutkam, celuesh' moi shcheki, esli ya govoryu tebe skrytye komplimenty, ili daryu otkrytki s syuzhetami. YA prizemlyayus' v tvoi ladoni, i nichego bolee ne hochu, mne dostatochno tvoego tepla do konca zhizni v predelah izvestnogo mne mira. Neizvestnost' vzyala sud'bu v svoi ruki, natural'nyj psihoz moj teper' neob®yasnim. Ne znayu, pochemu ya stal glavnym elektrikom na planete..... Waiting for the trivial telephone call from Mr. Nick Zana I realising I should be a polite young man however could not stop my creative invasion of the oil world. I was a pacifier looking for my pass. Stuart Satclife came to me at night. A girl in a rouge jacket puts a stone in her pants. No one predicted that it appeared to be a rolling one. No one in my dreams resembles a piano player. Though Stephanie was too persistent in looking for the password enabling her seeing..seeing a piano player in any dream of hers, thus she got lost in dreams, of hers. I was the one living once and again leaving home and just trying to read your heart.... getting old at a speed of light... dear.. how shameless it is from my side to make you using your time making me losing my mind.. hard to recognise the ability to write quite a sincere letter to a person like you as if taking a chance to escape nowhere from personal 'inner' phobias. If we get to know each other... hope we would.... you'll probably find it remarkable to interpret these abortions of my life. Vyspavshis' v Rio-de-ZHanejro, Al'to poceloval Anzhelu, kak doch', zabyv o svoem fotoapparate i o skuchnoj besede s Karlom na zare brazil'skogo solnca. Ves' v solnechnyh pyatnah, on priparkoval mashinu i vlez v prokurennyj svetopogloshchayushchij klub, zakazal vanil'noe morozhenoe s vodkoj, bol'shoj Al'to kuril bezostanovochno, Anzhela tonula v okeane svoej menstrual'noj krovi, i strannye volosy rosli na ee nogah, u nee est' stereo v kapyushone ee ispytannogo parashyuta, unosyashchego ee v tosku bezmolviya. Velika byla otvetstvennost', kotoruyu vzvalil na svoi plechi Al'varo, kogda celoval Anzhelu gubami, ne znavshimi nichego inogo, krome vkusa gipsa v laboratorii. Ego modeli, nesomnenno, dogadyvalis', chto on izmenilsya, i shtrihi ego mazkov na kamne napominali grozd'ya volos Anzhely, miloj i glupoj, ne dlya stynushchej bezdny stona, dlya sladkogo romana, miloj i glupoj. Dlya portugal'skoj korridy i karnavalov bez prava na venericheskie nedugi. - Vse budet horosho, - otpuskaya Anzhelu v San-Paolo, Al'varo risoval ee v svoih budushchih snah i sgoral ot vdohnoveniya. Ee zhdal Karl, vlyublyayas' v nee eshche bol'she, v ee otsutstvuyushchie detali. V ee odezhdu, kogda ona stoyala tak blizko v ego neozhidannyh vospominaniyah. V smutnyj vzglyad ee ne vyspavshihsya glaz, rozhdayushchih svet podiumov i ob®ektivov. On zval ee, kak sestru, rukami prityagivaya k sebe, k grudi, k dushe svoej, raskreposhchayas', ne pytayas' najti ej zamenu. - V kakoj-to moment mne pokazalos', chto ty ne so mnoj, - otreshennost'yu svoih zhelanij v kontekste proiznesennoj frazy okutal Karl Anzhelu, pryachushchuyu glaza. Prussian blue. Norway seemed to be dedicated to the snowball giants. A piano player left Norway for any place. He's on the rode. Wether he remembered his sarcastic flat in the heart of Prussian blue or didn't nobody could be sure. He studied the most complicated rhythms and piano compositions and newly born cheeks of his beautiful dream to see Stephanie... And that day he lied on the warm sand in Benin looking in the sun and everything was perfect, he saw her face and definitely recalled his history in Prussian blue. * * * Primeryayas' k trubam na obochinah, chelovek s vneshnost'yu riskoval dvazhdy. Pervyj raz v zhizni on ne podozreval o nerazdelennom chuvstve, chuvstvoval upoenie ot svyazi s chelovekom, kotoryj nikogda ne lyubil, no ochen' hotel vospityvat' sobstvennyh detej. A vtoroj raz chelovek s vneshnost'yu posmotrel v zerkalo i vnezapno vspomnil nazvanie nenapisannoj knigi o vospitanii. DJ Shadow s kazhdodnevnoj devochkoj zanimalsya ni chem inym, kak seksom po-gollandski v Kitajskom metro bez vidimogo ee zhelaniya, no trizhdy. Oni igrali v pejntbol i vyigryvali v kazino, i eshche bol'she oni vyigryvali na skachkah, i luchami diskodvizhenij osveshchali drug druga, tancevali u okeana, ehali na velosipedah v ellips solnca na gorizonte, chasticy subtropicheskogo vetra i l'dinki Antarkticheskogo l'da zarazhalis' ih prisutstviem. I v shokoladnom morozhenom tayali oni, i kazalos', budto oni ne mogli usomnit'sya v svoem vechnom stremlenii nikogda ne rasstavat'sya. Ih nahodili v itoge to tam, to tam, i vovse v nepredskazuemyh mestah ubitymi, s pulevymi raneniyami v viskah, poveshennymi na stolbah u obochin, vprochem, oni ne zhaleyut o sud'bonosnosti svoih vzglyadov, nahodyashchih drug druga privlekatel'nymi. Bezropotno Anzhela pisala na karnizy neboskrebov, kogda letela na zlopoluchnyh boingah, ot sonlivosti hotelos' ispuskat' mochu ne toroplivo, razmereno polivaya teploj vlagoj vse vokrug. Kapel'ki ee padali na yazyk, kotoryj Al'varo vystavil v okonnyj proem, kogda pytalsya ulovit' vkus vetra, eshche ne prishedshego, no uzhe prinesshego trevogu. Anzhela delala krasivye piruety v vozduhe, dyshala struej nebosvoda, lish' ej dostupnoj, zhivaya iskusitel'nica akul shou-biznesa, ne pokornaya. I Stefani uzhe ne mogla nichego skazat' pianistu ni na bumage, ni na slovah vechno istreblyaemyh yazykov svoih predkov, lish' kivnut' mogla v otvet na ego beskonechno ozhidaemye i bezotvetnye voprosy. - Pochitaj glupye rasskazy o prostitutkah 19-go veka, - rekomendoval Karl Anzhele, - ty najdesh' ih zabavnymi. I vsunul ruki ej v nezhnuyu nochnuyu tkan' ee bel'ya. Net sten. Stan' k stene. Ostyn' i ustan'. Ten'. Malen'kie veshchicy, krohotnye, nezametnye, ot nih polneyut, no o nih nikto ne govorit vsluh, i vnutrennie golosa teshat nutro barabannyh pereponok svoim shchemyashchim plachem, vse iz-za kakih-to malen'kih veshchic, oni uvodyat v storonu i daryat besplatnyj otdyh ot katastrof s simvolom stolbovoj dvojstvennosti, s dostoyaniem nacii bez nacional'nostej i s neznaniem slovarnyh statej, posvyashchennyh etnosu. Malen'kie veshchicy, pustyashnye, stanovyatsya klassikoj, zolotom epoh, kontrol'noj chertoj genial'nosti. The Who explained me a lot and who I am, though Kate Bush distinctly understood me, however random nights of seldom lights disturbed the city song of love and passion. She was with eyes of the man who's come from distant clouds. And walking on the moon lonesome sounds heard I heard. What is .. Please Lease and tease ... mea culpa Cease and bring me home from source of breath ... me...breathless . It is so wonderful you are recording my remote voices from the behind of sorrow. Reveal so so so tenderly in line in stripe of flow low flowing blow........... Friends of Lea. Do it now. In pain and un-skinned implanted in decentness of any baby's dream.... Careful. You lock your life. Secrets are still strong and indispensable. Sryvaet kryshu, i u Anzhely, i u Karla, i u Al'varo, i u nekogda umershej Anastasii. Pianist nikogda ne imel ee, lish' bral v zajmy u Stefani. Robin kryshu svoego osobnyaka nazyval "poligonom orgij", on mnogo vremeni provodil tam, lyubil on tam redko, i tol'ko samogo sebya, rastopyrivaya nogi i vsovyvaya vnutr' svoego anusa ruchki vilok i lozhek, emu bylo bol'no ot togo, chto ni na chto, krome boli on ne sposoben. Spasite dorogu na Uzhgorod, raskrojte starye karty, gde otchetlivo vidny kontury marshrutov k zamkam peschanyh korolej. Borodatyj muzhchina so vzmokshej ot slez borodoj vypil kofe, i teper' ego nel'zya bylo uznat', on okunalsya v mir kontrastov. Ego boroda besporyadochno menyala cvet, beskonechno ego zuby to udlinyalis', to ukorachivalis' kak u oborotnya, odnako bez prichiny, nervy ego rvalis', umirali i vosstanavlivalis'. CHudnyj dyaden'ka. On-to i soblaznil Stefani, myslenno iznasilovav. |to beskonechnoe plamya, szhigayushchee bespechno tvorcheski slomlennyh lichnostej; vot ona, takaya bol'shaya i svetlaya groza; atomnye kotyata otkryvayut glaza i sprashivayut pustotu, chuvstvuet li ona to zhe samoe, esli oni mechtayut o vechnom plameni, sposobnom ostanovit' bienie serdca. Gde zhe vyhod, po ocheredi oni krichali, vopl' ih byl slyshen mudrecam v lyuboj tochke planety. Kazhdyj chego-to hotel, i neosushchestvimost' kalechila ih, neuyazvimyh, kazalos' by, kalechimyh vechno, urodovala, unichtozhala, no ih prosili hraniteli ih tajn, progovarivali kazhdomu vnutr' dushevnogo napryazheniya: "prosti, raskrojsya hrizantemoj v boegolovke, rasplav'sya v sonme angelov nebesnyh gorodov, prosti, pritvoris' rodivshejsya ne iz-za rodov substanciej sveta i t'my, kak my...." Rebenok sidel u podnozhiya Vezuviya, otkrytye glaza rebenka ne opoznavali cvet magmy, leteli pticy i ih pesni porozhdali smeh. Strannymi kazalis' pticy, umeyushchie letat'. Vosemnadcatogo noyabrya zakonchilas' lekarstvennaya voda. Razobran, kak igrushechnyj domik, raskleen na holodnyh stolbah, raskolot na chasti nesoedinimye. Segodnya kazhdyj oshchutit, kak nevedomaya substanciya s moimi chertami lica vorvetsya v soznanie kazhdogo, i prineset oshchushchenie ochishcheniya, ischeznuv navsegda. Ulybkoj vstretyat izbranie mnoj novoj religii nevernye, lyuboj zvuk moej molitvy obyazan zastavit' ne umirat' cvety, sdelaet orgazm beskonechnym ot lyubogo dvizheniya lyubyashchih lyudej, i vse, chto kto-to komu-to ne skazal, dolzhno obresti krohotnoe vseob®emlyushchee serdce. I eto byli dazhe ne zvuki kryl'ev, ne pticami byli obladateli sverkayushchih na solnce per'ev, imi ne mogli byt' takzhe lyudi, kotorye odnazhdy mogli narastit' per'ya i szhit'sya s nimi, sovershaya izredka bezobidnye nedolgie polety, i ne poletami byli te dvizheniya, napolnyavshie prostranstvo iskrometnymi nepodrazhaemymi zvukami. Lish' pri opredelenii dalekih impul'sov ch'ih-to radostnyh svidanij i otchayannyh stremlenij osvobodit'sya ot nelyubvi, tot, kto slyshal zvuki, slegka pohozhie na zvuki kryl'ev, osoznaval svoe polnoe pravo soedinyat'sya s serdcami vetrenyh yunoshej i devushek, zabroshennyh vetrom v mir illyuzij. I ne v ptic prevrashchalis' ih kriki, zovushchie nevedomoe i neosoznannoe, stihiyu, kotoraya ne mozhet byt' zhivoj i tuchej komarov nesushchej malyariyu, libo shkvalom telefonnyh zvonkov, razdrazhayushchim dazhe gluhih starikov, telom oshchushchayushchih neuemnuyu vibraciyu materij. CHem-to inym stanovilsya ih zov, tyazhkij. Snova slovno iznutri. Pri strannyh obstoyatel'stvah okazalis' tam, gde byli ne za chem, i startovali iz niotkuda. My vzyalis' za voobrazhaemye ruki, i preodoleli milliony vspyshek i otzvukov. Mesto, gde my dogovorilis' vstretit'sya, postoyanno izmenyalo shirotu i dolgotu, podobno solncu, menyayushchemu zhelaniya i programmu teleperedach. Vse seli v odin i tot zhe poezd, a potom soshli po trapu odnogo iz samoletov v tolerantnost' neob®yasnimogo oshchushcheniya svobody. ZHivoj v posledstvii ee uvidet' mne ne udalos', vse, kto chto-to mne mog o nej rasskazat', vsegda proiznosili raznye imena, predstavlyaya ee. YA ne zapomnil ni odnogo iz nih, lish' ih zvuchanie teshilo sluh. Pochemu-to lyuboj rasskazchik podcherkival nekie detali v ee odezhde, no nikto bolee ni razu ne upominal v svoih rasskazah to, chto ona ne rasstavalas' s dzhinsovoj sumochkoj, v kotoroj pokoilas' periodicheski trevozhimaya eyu kniga s zheltymi stranicami. Kak budto ee ne bylo, i ona ne pryatala moj obraz v nej, ravno kak i svoyu istoriyu, kotoroj ne suzhdeno bylo byt'. Oleg Malahov 21.11.2001