"Everything will go your way now." That was the message from my fortune cookie when they served hot dinner on the Aeroflot flight. It's great that they come up with these encouraging things. You realize they can't possibly influence your luck, but at the same time, you naively hope that this message is meant specifically for you. Who knows, maybe a piece of dough really can become a companion to my luck? Of course, it's unlikely, but if you believe it, it will be so. And you also have to put in a lot of effort. Because luck cannot exist without movement. I run. From everything that has strings attached to the real world. It's temporary, useless, but it allows me to live another life. Because it's boring to be locked in one reality all the time. We are the same, but life is different. And how it accepts us is the most interesting thing. Beginners have luck. Let it be so! There are two absolute reasons why I wouldn't want to leave here: the ocean and the balcony with a glass table and a view of the bay. In the morning, you can observe the peace that has crept into every rare tree on our island, into every protruding rib of water from the wavy wind... The deep calm is disturbed only by the eternally alive bridge connecting the island to the mainland. At night, it is full of movement and light. Polished beetles with burning eyes rush to work, on vacation, towards a new life, towards good and bad news... Movement, movement... Light is needed for movement. There is always light in our living room. In the mornings, it floods it up to the hallway, and in the evenings, it barely reaches the kitchen. It slowly slides off the knives and spoons in the cutlery holder, flashing with blades, playing with sparkles on the fins of a poor fish in the aquarium, for which this is the most incredible event of the day, approaches tanned hands and salty hair at the table, throws itself onto the pillows of the black leather sofa, the scratches of which, like deep wrinkles, are shyly covered by a coffee-colored blanket, and then the sun reaches the balcony, passing every ray through the ribbed blinds... These uneven black gaps on the floor resemble a torn harp. Its strings are made of shadows, and the body is woven from sunlight. As soon as the wind touches the pliable slats, the whole structure sways, and it seems that someone is plucking the strings of a damaged instrument... I run. Then a push - a second wind, the body has awakened, energy poured into the body like a cold stream and forced me to speed up. Running along a narrow strip of sidewalk near the road is not very pleasant, the asphalt is soaked with sun, and traffic lights are found on almost every street, you have to stop either because of human conventions or because of the impossibility of nature's whims. I turn towards the residential sector in the hope that I can run calmly to the bay there. A clan of cyclists whistled past me, crushing the grass with ribbed tires. Because I am running towards them, the noise doubles, as if a whole field of singing cicadas is chirping. A tart, naked sound. Suddenly, the ringing of Chinese bells on someone's door crept into this summer. The complete opposite of the crackle of bicycle tires. It penetrated the first sound, mixed with it, as if crystal vials were swaying over a flaring fire. If I ever hear this duet again, the low panel city of Ocean City with bicycles chained to fences will immediately appear before my eyes. And then I notice these creatures. They remind me so much of my childhood, when my school friend and I saw huge scorpions in the bushes near our house. I still partly believe that it was so. I still dream about them sometimes. But seeing these giant crabs, I first thought they were dead stingrays. As if the path to the ocean was blocked by boulders, and they died. Their shape is exactly like a stingray: a blunt nape and a wedge-shaped tail. And even the name is appropriate - horseshoe crab. Anyone can say that you need to love all of n
+9
