(a fragment of memories from an almost completed fresh book)
One morning, I was filling out the paperwork erstwhile the cleaning lady, Mrs. Lusia, came into the room.
– Mr. manager – she breathed out quickly, breathing as if she had just finished moving with obstacles. She breathed and repeated: – Mr. Manager, and in the bathroom for the boys wrote something on you! I'm going to effort to erase it, but I thought, would you like to see it? due to the fact that it's on you!
– On me? - I put the papers away. - That's interesting. For all these years, there was nothing... You did the right thing. Let's go see.
We went into the boys' bathroom on the second floor. The maid opened the door of 1 of the toilet cabins. On their inside side there was a poem, written in black flamentra:
Poland for Poles.
Earth for potatoes.
Ukraine for Br(...)wski.
The rhyme was written carefully in large letters, in equal lines; you can see that the author was in no hurry to leave the compartment and spent a fewer minutes on a vucet work. "Ho, ho, a poem about me and it's not even written "for Br(...)ka", but full name – I instinctively smiled. There's nothing incorrect with him, even the opposite. All of Ukraine individual wants to give me.”
– Mrs. Lusiu, you know what – I turned to the cleaning woman – the poem is not offensive, as I thought at first. Leave it for now. I'll tell the villagers. We'll see if anyone can compose anything. Sometimes you can learn more from it than from talking. If anything else comes up, delight let me know. If not, after a week, you can erase two.
A fewer days of waiting did not work. no of the boys wrote anything; the poem was not even painted with scribbles. So after 2 weeks, he disappeared from the compartment door, and I forgot about that good to me, or whatever, rhyme.
* * Oh, * *
After a fewer years, I met a erstwhile land associate in the city. He even got excited and invited me to the place for a beer. We mentioned the old days. Suddenly, from a deep memory, the “cable piece” came out.
– Look, I just remembered something, but I don't know if you lived in boarding school at the time. I drank a sip of beer. erstwhile there was a poem about me in the boys' bathroom. Even, strangely, pleasant. 1 of you has given me all of Ukraine. I was a small afraid about who was so generous, but then I forgot.
– This “Earth for potatoes?” He laughed. As a substance of fact, I remember. Who wrote it, I don't know, but the full boarding home knew it by heart. But what Ukraine? He looked at me, surprised.
– What do you mean? Now I'm surprised. – After all, Ukraine was written for Br(...)wski.
What, how?! – He squished his eyes and immediately burst into laughter. What Ukraine?! Mr. Manager, you always came to boarding school on your bike. Many of the boys were from the village, and there Ukraine, no specified bike – he emphasized – the name of it, was very popular due to the fact that it was durable. They said the peasant would take a bag of potatoes, a female to the frame and go. Well, then individual wrote that this is the kind of bike they give you. It's like yours broke due to the fact that it's fragile. He laughed again.
Now I laughed loudly. 'Well, that's a good number, and I was so glad that the boys wanted to give me a part of land...'
Shit, I didn't ask. I twisted my head. I already felt like I owned the full Ukraine. I'd alternatively stay wrong. Although my golden pass looks delicate, but it is besides durable. I utilized to drive all the bags on it on my tent. I feel sorry for this Ukraine, I inactive had it present and now I have lost it. - I smiled again.
* * Oh, * *
...I inactive regret that ex-child led me out of my error.
