…and summer arrived. And death arrived. And he rang, and I wasn't in, and I rang, and he was busy, and the road to the British Embassy for a visa lost itself in the depths of Woland's world, dodging and snapping off, and I arrived at work and discovered that it was easier to work when dead than when alive, and the rain washed the kid's sand moulds in the playgrounds, and they told me, «Marina, he's a mercenary, a soldier, he has no feelings, he makes money for his clan, and nobody will allow him to spoil a setup they've been creating for years because of a dead Russian girl» and they kept saying «are you mad, Marina, remember all that's happened, you've had this all before, Jewish families trading in diamonds are linked with the secret services, remember who your granddad was, remember who your father is and forget him»… and Cortes accepted the gifts and yet slaughtered whole towns during the night, spilling blood in the wilderness scorched by drought, and the rabbi Lev ran all night through the narrow streets of Prague to save himself from his creation, sliding on the slops thrown out of windows… And he left, and returned again, and I was surprised that he didn't even notice that I had died, and Taku guzzled acid and escaped from himself in the ultraviolet light of raves in Manali, and they told me again, «Marina, passions and business are two incompatible things, you wrote a story with his energy, and he more than likely didn't even understand what was happening to him»… «But I didn't steal his energy, I gave him something in return, it's all fair»… «He was probably not able to do anything with what you gave him or did he simply get scared and slink away?»… and the grey monkeys swung on the railings of the bridges, and a flash of lightning lit up the plants and trees, and in the flashlight it fashioned a child's head, hands and feet, its whole body, and one day he didn't come back, and I waited for July, so that…
I didn't know why. And we got our visas in a day, but we couldn't leave, and I did my work, but nothing went right, and I looked round and saw only mirages and ghosts on the walls of the cocoon of my death, and I was neither woman nor man, and all around there were no men or women, but only beings opening their mouths, stirring, swarming, exchanging objects, giving off smells, coming together and parting in bustling pointless pas de deux, curtseys and lunges. I visited people and found empty rooms of fugitives, sealed with the wax of fear, I left home and the wet flakes of everyday existence fell and evaporated and melted and streamed down my arms and face and down streets and became an almost living rubbery mass, enveloping and devouring all these objects and beings, and they didn't protest, and I looked at my travelling companion and shook my head… «I don't understand, Vaclav, why everything's made so strangely, I don't understand how everyone and everything has their names and prices, their sizes and quantities, their models and limits, I can't imagine how all this comes into being and reproduces and moves and breathes, I can't…» and he replied, «Don't think about it Marina. While I was dancing and not thinking about anything I understood everything, but when I tried to explain and started thinking hard…» And every time I tried to go away my huge blue and black guardian angel with the appearance of Shaquille O'Neal took me by the scruff of my neck and returned me to Moscow, and I rocked in the hammock of death and dreamt, and one day I dreamt that all the men with whom I'd ever been were all together, but none of them could see the others, and each thought they were on their own with me, and I thought I was on my own with each of them, and didn't notice all the other women with whom these men had ever been, and when I realized this, I saw twisting whirlwinds and currents piercing right through all of us, and I suddenly felt that no-one has any right to anything, we're all free like the May wind in the palms of our Lord, and I came to realize that every time I had been with one of those men, I was with them only because we knew that everyone else did this and that's how we confirm our human form, and I heard the words I was saying, half-heard words, and I saw my gesticulations, the moves of a Hollywood actress, all rights reserved, for home viewing only… and I remembered the words of the apostle, «Love is never-ending, though the prophecies may cease, and tongues may dry up, and wisdom be outlawed»… and I wanted to hide myself from shame, but I went forward, and July came to an end…
And when he rang, but not from his phone at work, his first call in three days, when I had delayed leaving home for some reason for five minutes, when I thought, how simple, I am reborn and I've outsmarted the fakir, when I heard his voice, «Hey, it's David, how's things?»… I felt cheated, it was a dirty trick, I seemed to hear the felt mutant laughing over me from his stripy stool on the corner of Jampath Lane and the Tibetan Market… «Marina, why aren't you saying anything? Are we meeting up?» «Why?» «I missed you» «Not today» «Please come» «I don't want to come to the hotel» «I want to see you, stop by and we'll go out somewhere, anywhere»… He wants to see me? Sure, why not, I'm a conformist after all, if somebody wants me… We sat in a Japanese restaurant in the company of a fifty year-old London Jew and his young girlfriend with outsize breasts. An empty conversation, masks of attention, fumbling around on my knees under the table… «Have you seen 'Men in Black'?» «No, what's it about?» «Nothing really in particular, these aliens arrive on Earth…» The Englishman's girlfriend was bored, «What do you do?» «Nothing, I'm not from Moscow» «From where then?» «St Pete» «And what did you do there?» «I was married» «A worthy profession»… I looked at the ceiling and smiled, the Englishman screwed up his eyes and smirked cynically… «me and Ira bought some roller-blades you know, and those kids on Poklonnaya Hill, you should have seen what they could do on them, they spend days on end there, I wonder what they do in winter?» «Play on computers» «Yes, that's for sure, those computers»… I tried in vain to remove David's hand from my thigh, the Englishman leant backwards, «Be careful with that sake, Marina, you can drink it and drink it and then not be able to get up»… A Russian waitress in a kimono, but with a perm, brought some carrot consomme… «Yeah, that's like hash, you smoke it and smoke it and then you can't get up either…» a pause… the Englishman asked, «Can you get us some hash?» «Of course, anything you want… hash, acid, mushrooms»… David tried to change the subject, «You'd be best to tell us a joke» «Oh, the gentlemen want a joke, do they? No problem, here's one: Why do Jewish businessmen like watching porno films backwards? Because they love the bit where the prostitute returns the money» «Ha ha ha… that's a great joke, that's marvellous»… Dinner drew to a close, and while we travelled through night-time Moscow, and my hand was in his and our fingers intertwined and disentangled, he asked «How old are you? I've forgotten how old you are» «I don't remember» '?' «You can never know precisely whether you're fifteen or thirty-seven» «Right, but what does it say in your passport?» «I don't have it on me» «Fine, when's your story being published?»… and once again I felt that breath of energy, that wide pulsing of the ocean, and I wondered, if everything for me is so spontaneous, and he is so calculating, can I really be at ease with a person who thirsts for power, with a person who speaks the language of force? I decided that the Earth does not choose between the cliffs and the deserts, but tolerates a disintegrating road, because strength is temporary and finite, but weakness makes you subtle and free… and I was carried away and crashed back by a gigantic wave, and for the first time I was a cloud and not the dry earth, for the first time the waves crashed through me, and then another, and then another, and another, and again and again…