Готовый перевод Господин Барон / The Baron: 2

* * *
"So you're a nobleman here? I suspected you of being some kind of stranger to the working class! It's not for nothing that you wash your hands in the toilet every time, not for nothing! That noble gut shows itself!"

"Mitrich, stop it. I wash my hands because my father is a doctor."

"The father is a respected man, a doctor! The mother is even a teacher! And who's the son? Ugh, he's a baronish boy!"

"Were you eavesdropping at the door, like Olechka?"

The superior, who rushed into my office right after von Schnitze left, looked at me with a fatherly look, then shook his head indulgently.

"Nikolaich, you should at least use your head. All right, she is young, silly," a creepy growling was heard from behind the door, and Mitrich purposely raised his voice: "And in general - wo-man! But I am an experienced man, I'm from my childhood at the construction site! I understand everything: how the sockets are made, how the ventilation is laid, and where the glass should be pressed against the wall ..."

"So I'm always under the radar?"

"Of course! Come on, confess, where did you get the castle in Europe? Well, you can't steal so much in our office!"

"You shouldn't do that, I've got something... Shit! Never mind, it's from the days when the Chief was tall and curly."

"Was it even before the revolution? Uh-oh! What does the old man want from you?"

"That I might have the grace to look over a property somewhere in the ass of the world. And participate in the political life there."

"Well, get out of here!"

I looked at him grimly. Mitrich responded with the innocent gaze of a sixty-year-old infant.

" Seriously, Nikolaich, come on, take a break! It's the third year you've been working without a vacation, so go away and let your subordinates at least take home a box of paper clips in peace! How should I call you now, "Your Lordship"? Or "Your Highness"?"

"Just say "Baron."

"Come on, write your claim, how long do you need? Well, a week there, a week there, a week for the hangover, back..."

Trying to think of circumstances why it was beneficial to keep me away from work for a month, I came up with nothing of the sort. So after five more minutes of fiddling around, I finally wrote the paper, which the director immediately signed off on.

"There! Now go, and report when you come back! And how you defended the interests of the feudal system there, and the views from the window, and how the rutabagas are sown there - you will report everything. And about the right of the first night, too, since you're such a liege lord!"

Mitrich dodged the eraser thrown at him, laughed, and went out. I took another look at the table and the papers. I estimated how fatal it would be to leave the office and what needed to be finished first. And suddenly I realized with surprise that if I disappeared even for three months... Well, no, not three months, but two months for sure, they would live without me, and not even too much trouble. I had to load someone up for the whole period so that when they arrived and handed out souvenirs, I could lock myself away and scold the wrongdoers according to all the strictness of the instructions.

With determination, I turned off the computer, put on my jacket hanging on the back, and went out.

I felt uncomfortable again at the sight of the poor, humiliated secretary being humiliated by her cruel bosses. The girl sat with her foot resting on the back of her chair. A soft slipper tapped rhythmically on the leg of the desk, a stethoscope was visible in the open drawer. Olechka, following my gaze, carefully pushed the drawer closed and slowly, gracefully turned to me.

So you, Alexander Nikolayevich, are a real nobleman? And you have a whole castle?" The voice was honeyed and dangerous. God forbid to make a mistake, you may not be able to get out of this embrace. She will take to the painful grasp, and drag to the registry office!"

I heard a grunt from behind the door of Mitrich's office as if someone was trying to hold back laughter. Yeah, this bison has had more than that. He's laughing...

"I am... tomorrow. All tomorrow!" And bravely slipped along the wall and out into the corridor. What do you think of that? I am a grown man, had seen everything, from a caged sky to a pinned-up coffin lid from the inside. And this chubby girl I'm afraid of. I wish I'd have taken her a long time ago and...

Just in case, I didn't think too loudly after "and". There was a rumor that Olechka's grandmother was a witch, what if she could really eavesdrop on my thoughts?

Five people were standing at the exit, even though it was the middle of the day. All of them, including the security guard, was looking at me with undisguised curiosity! Well, that's how they knew? Olechka blabbed? So she was with us all the time! Who else? How could I know?!

With a stony expression on my face, I walked past. I heard something behind me:

"Here, look how he' s going! You can see it! I suspected it from day one!"

Maybe we have eavesdropping pipes in the walls, like in ancient castles? Could the builders have done something like that?

On the way home, I pondered all this craziness.

The reports, as it turned out, von Schnitze sent regularly to my old school. I thought it would be hilarious when the principal found out that Sasha Mogila had become a baron. I did not take into account that two years later the school would be closed. However, this is irrelevant. The important thing is that I can smell a trick with my gut, but if I don't go and check it out in person... I'll never forgive myself. So I must get ready.

My daughter answered on the second ring.

"Anyuk? Hello, kiddo! How are you?"

"Dad! Hi, where are you from? Dad, we're fine. Lenka took second place in the city competitions, I'm doing great... No, Mom, it's not. Mom, that's mine! Mom, give it back!"

With a sigh and a wince, I listened.

On the phone, as usual, taking the phone from her daughter, yelled a woman.

Ex, damn, wife.

A gorgeous little provincial girl who had come to the capital and somehow, unnoticed, turned out to be my wife. Blond, big-eyed, not too beautiful, but very, very cute.

A real viper.

Who gave birth to my two daughters.

Before she kicked me out of my apartment and took over the business. Before the investigators got to it.

The older one, Anna, is thirteen. The youngest, Lena, is ten.

I see them once a month, because the mother, who married a promising businessman from the capital, believes that if a man at forty does not have a million, then he is not a man.

Which, however, does not prevent her from pulling money from me under any pretext.

Which, however, does not prevent me from not giving it, paying only the daughters' expenses.

In general, the usual story.

Listening to the shouts, I noted to myself - to buy the girls presents and congratulate Lenka, then I scratched the back of my head and cut in for another phrase:

"Elka, you white-haired cow! I'm going to Europe for a couple of weeks, on business..."

"What's the bandit up to now?! You're shipping stolen cars again, aren't you?!"

"You, stop yelling!"

"So, what do you want?"

Once again marveling at her ability to change volume instantly, I finished:

"Going somewhere to the north, some business suddenly appeared there. It's none of your business!"

She snorted noisily, but remained silent. In addition to her bad temper, her wits, and her angelic appearance, Elia had an almost feline curiosity.

"When I get back, I'll take the girls for a week!"

"Where did you find the money? Did you finally steal from your beloved chief? It's about time, your little gang..."

"I took the phone away from my ear again, not wanting to listen to the scandal-ridden woman. She would let the girls go. Just for the sake of questioning them thoroughly later, to confirm the "my ex is a deadbeat loser" thesis, but she would get on my nerves, I could tell."

Well, it was never boring.

Waiting for the final shriek, I turned off the phone and went into the closet.

After the divorce, all she gave me were two suitcases with clothes and some memorabilia. Pictures of my family that I had taken from the "home place" when I went to find happiness in the capital, souvenir trinkets, and other magnets. I, still not believing that I had escaped, and did not bother about the rest. Later it was too late, and I did not want to get involved in the squabble. The strange thing was that neither Elka nor I thought, for some reason, that we had parted for good: I had intervened a couple of times when she was in trouble. She had been successfully expanding her business, probably doing better than I had, and when I had been hit by a car three years before, the first person I saw when I woke up was my ex-wife. She explained to me right away how stupid I was and that it was the right thing to do. It was as if she hadn't been sitting at the bedside for two days, hissing at the doctors.

But we didn't risk getting together for a long time. We'd fight again, scare our daughters. They were too young to understand that sometimes it can be useful to fight. Or do they already understand? Damn, Anna's thirteen..

The "Diploma of Barony," or whatever it was, was found quickly, in a folder of papers from my very first job, with a picture pinned to it with a rusty paperclip. It showed five young, adventurous, slightly drunken guys taking pictures against the Eiffel Tower. We just turned in another case and decided to take a ride, to see how people live. Everyone in the picture was desperately young and carefree - "Well, guys, come to think of it, we're in Paris! Oh, for fuck's sake! Geez!"

Dimka tried heroin for the first time three months later - he was in a hurry to live, pouring everything he earned into any available pleasure. Money and life were enough for three years. Vaska disappeared after five years. He just left in the morning for work and no one saw him again. Roma was stabbed in a fight - he liked to play tough, but he ran into even tougher guys. Mishka died on his own. A heart attack at the age of thirty-six. A month before the "mask show" came to visit me. It was just me and the Chief. He got his nickname not just because he was the most important, but from a cartoon about Vrongel. Small, arrogant to the point of amazement and without one finger.

After stroking the picture, I unfolded the parchment, fiddled with the seal. I took out von Schnittze's travel voucher, looked closely, comparing it. Yes, the seal was the same, with the same chips and irregularities. So the old man was telling the truth. Though what was the use of lying? What could you get out of me? Only liver and it is worn out by life. It is decided - I go!

The next day, having made sure that no one at work was glowing with happiness, deprived for a whole month (two is too much!) of my attention, by noon I escaped. By unscrewing the fuses, turning off the faucet, and giving the key to my neighbor. Judging by the intensity of her gaze, she didn't work in the library until her retirement, as she said, but worked in the prosecutor's office. I went to meet my... Is he really the seneschal? A castellan, perhaps? Or some other faintly familiar word? Shit, I need a cheat sheet so I don't look like an ignoramus. I don't know a thing about baronry, or nobility, for that matter. It's all right. I'll see what I can do.

The tickets were in economy class. I didn't expect anything different from von Schnitze. "Noble frugality," which turns into stinginess, is a common thing for natives of those places. Back home, I looked closely at the maps to find "my" castle. A small peninsula, if you lay trails across the sea from all the neighboring states - exactly the same distance will turn out... Well, if you don't count the Federation, they only have to pass through half a kilometer isthmus, and that's it, Eskenland.

I went there once, exactly once. And a fellow traveler, standing beside the ferry, explained that it was the most boring place in the region. There are only kilometer-wide tidal flats, dunes, and fields. If you believe the wiki, there are two castles on the peninsula - Gravstein, and Eskenborg. The other barons lived on the estates. We have another cottage cooperative much larger, and to the same - baronies! One word - Europe. Everything is small, stable, and has not changed for centuries, judging by my manager (who, by the way, turned out to be the most famous popularizer of the history of the Esk people, the autochthons of Eskenland).

* * *
"The history of the Esk people is as interesting as it is dramatic. The centuries of being under the heel of foreign conquerors and the unyielding desire for freedom and self-government have greatly influenced the national character, giving the Esks a peculiar view of life that has become known to all neighbors."

Egelbert von Schnitze "History of Eskenland"

"That's right, there are a lot of jokes about them."

Commentary with a pen in the margin.
* * *

The flight was uneventful. No one cared about the baron flying to his personal castle. Even at passport control, I was held up for thirty seconds. A Schengen passport was issued by the Chief's secretary. And a printout of a prospectus for some hotel on the coast as an excuse for why I was here. The clerk glanced at me with a standard indifferent "wilkommen", and already in the cab, I wondered what would have happened if I had shown my travel card instead of my passport. However, the locals probably would have found a law or instructions for such a case. And von Schnitze, who had not let me out of his sight the whole time, as if I might run away! I could see in his eyes the desire to handcuff me!

Fifteen minutes after leaving the airport, we had already received our tickets at the station ticket office. The departure was still twenty minutes away.

"Wait here, I'll be right back."

"Mr. Baron? Where are you going? Can I help you?"

"To the bathroom, and I can unzip my fly myself!" The constant attention of the manager was annoying, so I broke through the door with the face of a "typical Russian tourist," scaring some burgher.

And then I immediately found some entertainment!

"Kurwa! Uroju"

"Sorry, you must be mistaken...."

There is no hiding from the motherland. More precisely - from its worst representatives.

A large, recently sunburned body wiggled against the wall of a young girl of about eighteen, demanding something. The girl, from the pronunciation of the locals, was frantically fluttering, half-asphyxiated trying to explain the misunderstanding.

When I looked around and did not see anyone (only a noisy sniffling of someone in a locked booth), I pretended to walk and not touch anyone. And when the calmed fighter with the overseas enemy again turned to the kid - I stepped up and immediately punched under his hiked arm in the side.

The body went limp and slid with a wheeze under the washbasin.

It is not patriotic, of course, not to help a compatriot in a faraway land. But on the other hand, it is better to lie for ten minutes than to sit for a year. So I helped him in some way. A good punch solves five out of ten problems!

And it spawns ten more.

"Thank you!"

"Yeah, yeah..."

A deed is a deed, but nature was calling.

When I left the booth, I was immediately approached with a question:

"Should we call the police?"

She... Ahem. No, not her. It? Or is it a he?

Blond hair up to mid-back, feathered in pink and lilac, no makeup on the face - coloring book. An earring in the nose, an earring in the lip, an earring in the eyebrow, five earrings in the ear. A worn leather jacket with some college emblem on it. Bermuda pants I mistook for a skirt, sandals. Painted toenails. In different colors.

No, It's doesn't look like a girl.

While I was washing my hands, I took a closer look at the man lying on the floor. Either passed out or fell asleep. Either way, he didn't ask for anything, didn't disturb anyone's life... Good.

"Do you have complaints against this?"

"No, but..."

"Claims against me?"

"No, I am very..."

"Then forget it."

"Ah, it's wise!"

And it immediately turned to the mirror and started correcting something in the hair. As I opened the door, I heard in the back:

"And thanks again!"

Someone kept sniffling in the stall. Is he constipated or something?

Von Schnitze was writhing outside with a sorrowful look, and I had to follow him and take a seat. The trip was supposed to last an hour, why didn't he take the car?

Probably because there was a discount on the train, but not on the rental car.

About five minutes later, It plunged into a chair across the aisle and dropped the backpack in front of him, dropping half of its contents on the floor. A clipboard, drawing books, a couple of thick books. One caught my eye, "The Middle Ages for Dummies - Life in the Court of a Feudal lord.

"Are you interested? Take it."

I took the handed-out book and flipped through it. A lot of text, pictures, footnotes, and a caricature flashed in one place. Hmm, useful stuff.

"May I?" The creature reached over and unceremoniously grabbed my Walkman and immediately stuck it in the ears. "Oh, Eastern European folk?"

"In my home, it's called chanson for some reason."

"Cool! I love ethnicity!"

A Dutchman, judging by some of the words, enthusiastically listening to Trofim's "Good Morning" on the night train and even trying to sing along... Yeah. Europe.

I spent the next half an hour browsing through the book, occasionally glancing at von Schnitze, who had fallen asleep immediately after the departure. The old man is strong, of course, but the years take their toll. He was tired.

"I downloaded this music for myself, okay?"

"Do you like it?"

"It's funny. I have to learn the language to understand it better. The intonations don't all convey it."

"Not everything is worth understanding."

"It's better to understand each other and what the other person has in mind than to get into a situation like that. You can solve any problem by having the right conversation!"

"We were talking across the aisle, half-voiced. Most of the passengers were either reading or sleeping, only the two of us were talking."

"So any."

"I am sure!"

"Well, stick to your delusions. By the way, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Are you guy or gal?"

"Um, we met in the gentlemen's room, doesn't that mean anything?"

"In those places, practically nothing."

"Oh, really. You can call me "Esk." I got used to it in college."

"Doesn't anyone tease you "Ask"?" I held out my hand.

"Sometimes." The shake is masculine, though the hand is rather weak. "My full name is Elegar Esko Elise Helena Orland van Eske, Duke of Eskenland. Heir, to be exact."

The first thought - after all, a guy! Second, Helena so a duchess? Third - how he presented himself, the bastard! That's where the "noble" is. He didn't even straighten up, his tone and gestures alone showed superiority.

"And I am Alexander Nikolaevich Mogila, as it turned out - Baron von Graveshtein."

"Ha! I knew it. There's something about your face..."

I closed my eyes and sighed - this one too!

"Did you know that your castle has been a pirate's nest for quite some time?"

"That's the first time I've heard of it. By the way, when did you become Duke? We haven't voted for you yet, have we?"

"You did not vote that I am the legitimate ruler you are willing to serve. I inherited the title from my ancestors. In fact, maybe I will refuse!"

"Where are you going to go... There's the steward coming to get me." I nodded at the snoring von Schnitze. "I suppose they sent a dozen for you at once?"

"Nah, they text me. Vacation, I decided to go.' Esk suddenly looked at the book and handed it to me. "Take it, Baron. I've already read it, and I think you'll need it."

"Sure you can manage without cheat sheets, Duke?"

"There's nowhere to go... we're in the same ass, aren't we?"

I didn't quite get it, but I nodded.

Esk jumped up, said goodbye, and left, humming.

Von Schnitze woke up exactly one minute before the stop, apparently out of habit.

The duke glimpsed somewhere at the other end of the platform. I was dragged to the parking lot, shoved into the back of an old Mercedes, and a quarter of an hour later I crossed the border of the Federation without any formalities and entered the self-determined Eskenland. Ten minutes later, out of the darkness emerged the huge, imposing castle wall that separated my domain from the quietly sleeping town.

In the courtyard, in spite of the late hour, quite a lot of people had gathered - some men, not wearing "national dress" for some reason, a few women, and a couple of kids. They were all looking at me with a kind of overt joy. It was like when we were kids, we looked at an ice cream cart pulling up.

"Baron, everything is ready!" Von Schnitze, approached, rubbing his hands nervously.

"What's ready?"

"People are gathered."

"Why?"

"So that I could introduce them to the new ruler of this land."

Closing my eyes with my hand, I put the bits and pieces together in my mind, and then finally guessed what kind of ass our student duke was referring to. It seemed that my vacation was over.

He dealt with the greeters with a simple "Tomorrow!" and a beastly scowl. Then I grabbed the old man and stormed into the castle. I paid little or no attention to my surroundings. I was flying forward, spurred on by the short "right" and "left" and "watch your step". Finally, in some semblance of a cabinet with antique furniture, I decided that would be ok. And collapsed into an armchair, staring at von Schnitze like a KGB officer at an enemy of the nation. Yes, the night, the wind rustling outside the window, the foreign baron sitting in a high-backed armchair, questioning the poor old patriot who had been guilty.

The patriot, realizing he had to tell the truth, crumpled up a little more. But when he realized that it was dangerous to remain silent, he coughed and started from afar.

A small peninsula, and during high tides even "part of the land surrounded by water". In the past, a very, very distant past, an almost legendary past, a small independent state. It was so long ago that no one remembers when. Periods of independence were followed by the coming of different invaders who were soon chased away by others. Local customs intertwined with the customs of the invaders, the local laws diluted with the laws of others, but so what? People live, they would like to eat something, raise their children, and put aside some money for their old age, and what is the name of this money, pfennig, öre, pence or cent - what difference does it make?

However, with the onset of long, well-fed times, the locals wanted something big and lofty. What could be more innocent than the intention to return the old names to the land of their ancestors? After all, this is just the name of a federal district, and they, as good citizens, have the right to such a whim? They approached the problem with the practicality typical of those places, put together a detailed plan, and put it into action. Only one small detail was not taken into account, which is what Schnitze was telling me now.

"We didn't want to give some not-so-sane people a reason... to accuse us of... uh... some hasty decision-making."

I gave an encouraging chuckle.

"What exactly did you mess up?"

Von Schnitze, coughing once more and looking nervously outside the window, continued:

"Our country, as you know, consists of eighteen federal states. Yes, we are part of one of them, as it happens, but we have our own history and our own pride! Surely you have heard of the great struggle of the Esks to restore the Duchy to its historic borders?"

"Not at all."

"How?! It's been going on for centuries, there isn't a single person in the Duchy who is indifferent! The turnout for the referendum was ninety-nine percent and we know all the non-participants!"

"Did you ask them by name?"

"Of course! What if we haven't taken into account some of the wishes of our compatriots?"

So make jokes here.

Recently we did find one option that seemed reasonable and correct. In one of the political games of past centuries, an unsuccessful pretender to the dominion of our land tried to organize a referendum. In those days there was no such word, and the other sides simply had more brute force. So the idea of the people's will did not succeed. But the one who proposed it at that moment had every right to do so since he was formally considered the head of the state! We picked up the proposal from two centuries ago, checked it, and found that it turned out not to have been canceled, but postponed, due to the known events. Unfortunately, the original text had some... um... not quite correct wording. For example, it was supposed to abolish "foreign laws," leaving only "native customs".

"The implication was that the authorities would point out which customs were indigenous?"

"Probably so." The old man looked outside the window once more and sighed. "Nevertheless, the text was there, the document was still valid, and we decided there was enough time to think about it. All that remained was to resume the procedure, which was in the competence of the district Volksraat, and to hold the plebiscite itself. But the wording... You see, Mr. Baron, since the wording of two hundred years ago was not changed, the result was that we... We were indeed a little hasty. You see, it's a rather complicated question, there are different sides to it, and besides..."

"Be specific!"

He shuddered and strangely squinted to the side in a half-whisper:

"It turned out that we abolished all laws in the country. Up to the time when our country was still free "

Abolished. Laws. Wild damn Europe!

"So cancel the referendum decision, what waiting for?"

He suddenly straightened up proudly:

"We live in a free, democratic country! The Volksraat's decision cannot be reversed!" But then he immediately crumpled up. "Besides, the law now says that only barons have the right to make such decisions. You see, in the text of the discussed change it was written "return to the laws adopted at the time of independence," but somehow it was forgotten that our country was last completely independent in one thousand one hundred and seventh years. But understand, we really wanted to finally get our name back!"

"Hold another referendum!"

"If only..." He looked at me sadly, moved his papers, and sighed again. "That's the law that still works. It's written, you see, in the oldest handwritten law of the country. The right to vote now belongs only to the barons! And only the duke can deprive them of that right by giving it to all citizens!"

"And only the barons can approve the Duke's heir."

"That's right. And according to tradition, it should happen on the last day of summer. That is, in two months."

"And until then..."

"The judicial, legislative and executive powers belong to you, Mr. Baron, and your... er... colleagues. Each within their lands."

"And you lured me here to work as a judge and mayor?"

"You can appoint one of your loyal servants to these positions..." Von Schnitze quickly looked up at me and shuddered. "But yes. I am to blame for not revealing all the details. It is my fault, Herr Baron, only I beg to understand - the barony of Gravstein is eleven thousand people, they need a fair, and most importantly - the lawful authority! Of course, besides the written laws, there are customs, common sense finally, life goes on. In two months, the duke - elected and crowned following the treaty concluded with him will sign his first decree and all the former laws will be in effect again."

"And until then?"

The old man was staring off into a corner again:

"Until then, I hope you fulfill your duty to your subordinates."

I stood silently, and went to my bag, and pulled out the book I had been given. On the cover was still a bearded man in a strange outfit, looking down at the haggard people crowded in front of him. I turned around when I heard some rustling behind me. The old man opened his folder and took out exactly the same book, only thoroughly gripped and with a dozen of multi-colored bookmarks. Von Schnitze caught my gaze and looked back sadly, shrugging his shoulders. What can you do, Shurik, that's the way it is.

"Tomorrow. Tomorrow, everybody! Get out of here, Mr. Baron desires to rest!"

"Yes, Your Grace! The bed is already made."

The bedroom, as it turned out, was adjacent to this office. The bed was shallow and uncomfortable, but I was able to collapse obliquely, fitting almost entirely under the canopy.

So, Alexander, what do we have?

We have a headache. First of all, the situation is strange, and secondly, if I agree to the pleas of this schemer, I get a lot of trouble with dubious profit. And if they find out that I'm not a nobleman? Well, my grandmother hinted something about my grandfather's Tatar roots. If the Romanian nobility fails, I will be a Tatar murza!

I rolled over on frantically squeaking bed and stared at the ceiling, then jumped up and went to the window.

I had a friend, he was happy to swim in the pool, he was a pretty good swimmer. But when we started jumping off the boat during a walk in the sea and he was told that it was almost a kilometer deep, he started drowning right away, and he wasn't really floundering. When we pulled him out he couldn't even explain what had happened. He just tried to keep away from the board. And you would think, what difference does it make how far to the bottom, if it's more than your height?

And now - so the barony, so the title, so what? The same work, the eyes are afraid, but the hands will do somehow. But what to do now? What is it supposed to do in such cases? I'm in the very, very European shithole, where there's no law, no normal people, and I have to somehow get by for two months, using only a popular book and common sense, by doing... pretty much the same thing.

Talking to people, convincing them, solving petty problems, judging petty squabbles... well, what serious things can happen in these dull backwoods? And the reward is a whole castle! In fact, a vacation, and bring the girls here! And why - there is the sea, there are picturesque ruins, Europe! I'll rub Elke's nose, saying she left Baron, she's the goat! I'll make Mitrich happy with the story. He loves such tricks. But the noble behavior... Well, I will say that it is accepted in my homeland, I don't know their traditions, so I behave like a boyar!

What, by the way, am I supposed to do in situations like this? I remember only one thing: peeking out the window of the ancient tower and breathing in the fresh air from the sea with pleasure, I shouted:

"Tagi-i-il!"

I feel better now.

Just as I was closing the old wooden shutter, I heard it from somewhere in the distance:

"Kemerovo-o-o!"

"Ours - everywhere."

"Good night, countryman!"
* * *

"Tourist excursions to the famous Eskeland watts are currently postponed. We hope everyone will soon enjoy unforgettable walks on this local landmark!"

European Tourism Review.

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Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/83108/517808

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP