a volume of Julio Cortazar, a number of old Soviet-era books smelling of cinnamon and dust, and a volume of Nikolai Gogol. Now it is 3 a.m., I have to send the text to the publisher in Moscow, the printing office is ready for the catalogue. And me, I am in Alma-Ata drinking Korean vodka and reading Marina Tsvetayeva. “Before me is a girl — a living fire. Everything is ablaze, all of her is burning — her cheeks, her lips, her eyes on fire, the white teeth fire-proof in the flame of her mouth [...]. And the look, out of that fire – such bliss, such despair, as if to say: ‘I am frightened! I am in love!’” In my hotel room I am surrounded by the books stolen earlier from the oak bookcase. I hear them whispering, “Don’t be scared, Irakli, tomorrow morning you will have the finished text for the catalogue”. And I believed them. Using quotations from my favourite writers, I would tell the world how much I like the artist Toma Stenko. Of course, Tsvetayeva describes Toma... Having finished the Korean vodka, I didn’t feel ashamed of my plagiarism. Look what Tsvetaeyeva writes about Toma: “I haven’t seen pink pearls, but I affirm that her face was even pinker and pearlier.” Then, one of Tsvetaeyva’s heroines says, “Marina, have you ever thought that now, at this very moment, this very same minute, somewhere, in the port city, a sailor or a naval officer — it’s all the same, comes off the ship and wanders around the city looking for you,
the one that is here in Borisoglebsky lane... At school I loved geography — all those latitudes, meridians, loved city names, they are so many, the globe is full of them, they are on every point of the globe — the globe is only seemingly small. (Do you have a globe? I could show you.) And the dot only seems to be a dot, there are thousands of dots, thousands of those whom I could love ... Marina, who invented the globe? You don’t know? Me too, I don’t know anything, neither who invented the globe nor maps, or clocks... I bless whoever invented the globe (possibly, some old man with a long white beard...) — for the fact that I can immediately embrace the whole globe with these two hands — with all my loved ones!!!” This monologue is from The Tale of Sonechka could be spoken by Toma Stenko. Just look at her art pieces. In many of them you will see large arms, unnaturally large arms of lovers who embrace and protect those they love. Suddenly the lights went out at Mildom Hotel, and I observed from my window how the city plunged into utter darkness. Only the bright stars of the Kazakh sky shone oblivious to my need to compose a story about the artist who constantly paints and draws on canvas, paper, walls, wet sands of ocean beaches (in India), on silk, cotton and leather (in London, at Central Saint Martins, where she studied under the great Louise Wilson), on Starbucks paper cups (around the world)... In a house on Samotechniy Lane where we live, there is an empty apartment down below which is advertised
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