О чем не расскажет смерть | ✓

Chapter 3 THE SPEECH

The day I went down the subway, I had no idea it would happen a second time. This incident greatly affected me. It's as if I was reformatted, everything seemed different. I felt that everything had changed. Literally everything. The frantic rhythm of life was gone; everything has become so measured. Things were now easy, and I felt that I was truly breathing.

It was well past midnight, but I didn't feel like sleeping. The third day in the hospital, and I still could not sleep well. I have no idea why. I wrapped myself tighter in a thin blanket. For a moment, it seemed that I was not here, but somewhere in the Canaries, and that I was warm and joyful. Was it my new hobby – deceiving myself? Dreaming up something and thus raising my mood. Empty ghost pictures. After all, no matter how much you amuse yourself with hopes and false thoughts, their sweetness will become ghostly with the appearance of the first drops of reason.

For a few more minutes in the darkness, I tried to make out the outlines of an old painting hanging a little crookedly on the wall. The painting depicted the period of the Renaissance. It showed a beautiful medieval lady: she had a pale oval face framed by slightly curled dark hair, lush pitch-black eyelashes, and black eyes complemented her image. There was nothing imposing or provocative in her outfit: a modest dress in dark blue. In such low light, almost in its absence, it was difficult to see all the details of the picture.

Yawning, I hugged the non-fluffed pillow tighter and looked out the window. For a moment, I imagined myself in a different era. In the era that is depicted in the picture. I wonder, how did ladies live in the Middle Ages? During the era of bloody wars, kings and dukes. Yes, the lady in the picture greatly affected my imagination.

Gray clouds covered the sky and refused to let the moonlight through; nature plunged into darkness. How I missed the sun. Ever since we were rescued, I yearned for warm sunlight. So far, I have not been able to see the sun. Twilight and grayness surrounded me.

I began to fall asleep slowly, gradually sinking into the arms of dream.

I woke up two or three times during the night. I had strange dreams. Especially the last one. I didn't remember it well, or rather, I had no recollection of its events. It left only vivid impressions.

The wind howled pitifully, the snow and rain drummed all night, but in the morning all the clouds left the firmament, as if they had done their job with a clear conscience.

The morning at the hospital was normal. Feeling the bright radiance and warmth of the sunlight, I began to wake up. The sun was shining outside the window. For the first time in a long time, I saw the sun, felt its soft rays on my face. Life was in full swing outside the window, but it went without me and past me, while I was lying in the hospital. I enjoyed spending time at the window. This way, I felt at least a little involved, while I was stuck within four hospital walls.

On the very first day I was admitted to the hospital, I underwent surgery on my knee. The head was dizzy, the whole body was numb, and the first steps were a little awkward. However, this was my little victory. And, despite all the pain, I was happy that I could walk. The days dragged on tediously, interlaced with a series of treatments and examinations. By the time I recovered, when I began to walk much faster, the time began to flow faster as well. Every day I got better and better, I was on the mend. To the surprise of the doctors, and to my own, this happened rather quickly. Soon I was discharged from the hospital.

Boston-Boston-Boston. It's been on my mind ever since I got into shape more or less. Of course, being deep underground, I didn't care how I would perform or what I would be wearing. Then, like everyone else, I just wanted to survive. But life goes on no matter what, and my forum has not been canceled. On the contrary, people, as soon as they found out that I had miraculously survived, rushed to buy tickets to listen to me (thanks to all journalists for the quick spread of information). Yeah, great advertising with a risk to life. I was glad, though. For some reason, it was good to know that so many people remember, worry, and care about me. Even if I didn't know them. The fact that people were in such a hurry to attend my trainings, to meet me, to listen to me. All this only added to my confidence, driving away my doubts and fears that I was in bad shape after what happened.