Is it easy to be young? One smart man described youth as a disadvantage that usually goes away quickly.
It is only in our youth that we are so selflessly and completely indulging to fun and are so hopelessly feeling alone, fearfully thinking about our uncertain future.
The author of this story recalls her youth during the dramatic events in the history of Russia in the 90s.
The emotional aspect of relationships with the opposite sex representatives in an attempt to find inner comfort is described.
This is the second book of the cycle “The Unbearable Longing of the Flesh”.
Targeted Age Group:: 35+
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
The idea of writing the cycle "The Unbearable Longing of the Flesh" came to me while reading the famous saga of Marcel Proust "À la recherche du temps perdu ". I have to admit I am a devoted fan of this french author.
So, thinking about how Proust builds his story, I was surprised to find that in his text Proust gives very little plot development in terms of the amount of "action". But at the same time a certain impressionable young man with a fine mental organization was chosen as the main character of the novel, who perceives these ordinary and unremarkable things that happens to him, very in an sharp manner. Therefore, on the pages of the novel, we come across literally "kilograms" of the author's reasoning on general themes and an analysis of the elusive feelings of this young man. And all this is held together solely based on the unique recognizable author's style and on this very analysis of the smallest sensations, plus on not too banal – and sometimes, on the contrary, even on a little paradoxical – reasoning on general topics.
And at that very moment I suddenly thought: but I can also reason a lot, and maybe even no less original than Proust, in my very immodest opinion. And in my reasoning I stand on the position of a person familiar with the much later and more sophisticated fruits of intellectual achievements of human civilization than Marcel Proust could use in his reasoning.. And the events of my youth were certainly much more exciting than our respected Marcel had.)
However, there was one friend Lenka whom I hang out with.
I remember once she invited me to her place.
The September sun that did not warm… Precisely such kind of sun was shining as she brought me from her city apartment to the garden of her country house.
The garden was rich with sun and covered in fallen apples – signs of the inevitable wilting of nature.
We were picking apples. We satisfied our hunger with hastily cooked potatoes and canned fish.
The country house was completely at our disposal, we felt there as sovereign owners.
Her naive admiration for her "vast" possessions was transferred also me while she was galloping and frolicking, like a child, jumping on springy beds and climbing trees…
Having agreed to share this simple leisure with her, I found myself to have a strange feeling that both boredom and a desire to get away quickly were inevitably taking hold of me.
At that time, I had already tasted all the charm of merging and unity with a man, all the exciting and sweet abyss of this game, and therefore I could no longer seek sincerely to harmony in communication with my girl friends.
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