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In The Line
A short story by my wife.
The time is November-December of 1991, I am 18 years old, the historical context is the collapse of the Soviet Union. A lot of friends and relatives have left for United States and Israel, and I feel it keenly. Still my mood is pretty upbeat and happy. Who is not happy at eighteen?
It is quite hard on my parents though. The supermarkets are empty. One needs to stand in a long line to get anything. Once we spend the entire Sunday standing in line to get sunflower oil.
But for us, students, it is all is quite funny. Except sometime it is not.
The supermarket (Gastronom) on Preobrazhenka is located right next to the subway station. I guess there is a liquor store right next to it because I remember the constant swarms of drunks in the area. The sickening booze breath smell stays there constantly. Upon entering the store the disgusting slush under the feet (a mix of snow, salt and sand) makes one walk very cautiously. There is a feeling of total hopelessness.
One day I am coming home from the university and notice a huge crowd storming the Gastronom. The store is selling cheese! I get in. The crowd looks like a picture from a horror movie — not just the density but the facial expressions are… it is hard to explain… they do not look like normal people. Not a single one of them. It is suffocating. I think to myself, “If I won't find a single normal face in this crowd I am leaving this country”. Suddenly I notice one human-like face somewhere in the corner. A feeling of relief washes over me. Then I realize that I see my own reflection in a store's dark window.
Picture: Vasiliy Kolotev, The Line
The time is November-December of 1991, I am 18 years old, the historical context is the collapse of the Soviet Union. A lot of friends and relatives have left for United States and Israel, and I feel it keenly. Still my mood is pretty upbeat and happy. Who is not happy at eighteen?
It is quite hard on my parents though. The supermarkets are empty. One needs to stand in a long line to get anything. Once we spend the entire Sunday standing in line to get sunflower oil.
But for us, students, it is all is quite funny. Except sometime it is not.
The supermarket (Gastronom) on Preobrazhenka is located right next to the subway station. I guess there is a liquor store right next to it because I remember the constant swarms of drunks in the area. The sickening booze breath smell stays there constantly. Upon entering the store the disgusting slush under the feet (a mix of snow, salt and sand) makes one walk very cautiously. There is a feeling of total hopelessness.
One day I am coming home from the university and notice a huge crowd storming the Gastronom. The store is selling cheese! I get in. The crowd looks like a picture from a horror movie — not just the density but the facial expressions are… it is hard to explain… they do not look like normal people. Not a single one of them. It is suffocating. I think to myself, “If I won't find a single normal face in this crowd I am leaving this country”. Suddenly I notice one human-like face somewhere in the corner. A feeling of relief washes over me. Then I realize that I see my own reflection in a store's dark window.
Picture: Vasiliy Kolotev, The Line
no subject
Зашла в отдел кадров на своей работе (я успела поработать после окончания института), а там девушки из отдела кадров разложили на рабочем столе на газете кильку, чистят ее и едят...От этого у меня возникло оно, ощущение полной безнадеги.
Конечно, для нее были и другие причины, но для красоты слога не будем углубляться в детали.
Так и уехала, но от рыбы, как выяснилось, не уедешь.
Почему-то есть рыбу я люблю, а вот когда ее едят при мне на рабочем месте или в вагоне метро, меня тошнит.