и вот я уже не просто иду, а...

and now I’m not just walking, but walking cautiously with cold, insensitive feet, cautiously, as if over an abyss, carefully, turning to a whisper. I don’t look, but I peer into the space a little further than your face, catching my breath and as if afraid to deflate the vision, your eyes and your attentive gaze. and then carefully turn away tucking a knocked lock out by the ear. carefully, feeling every bend, every detail, a crunch on the side and buttons, I hold the phone and look at the time without understanding the meaning of these ruthless numbers. I run my thumb along the groove between the buttons and the yellow trim around the edge and put it in my pocket. it’s tight in my pocket from keys, wires, the day before yesterday’s check from the store, a napkin and some other useless trifle. everything becomes so detailed and tangible. three steps on rough wet asphalt. all. the book ended and it is so painful to return to the real world when you can’t hide behind a thin barrier of book pages, mottled with important words that have some mysterious meaning.