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entered and sat down on a chair, still trembling. In the office was an Arab – Doctor Badya, they said he was from Syria.

      The doctor checked her pulse, looking concerned. A nurse was nearby.

      Marianna spoke with difficulty:

      – This is a phone number, – she pointed to a piece of paper, – if something happens to me… on the paper was written: Nastya, and her phone number.

      – Tachyarrhythmia, – Marianna understood among the English words that the doctor was saying to the nurse as he drew medicine from an ampoule.

      The doctor gave Marianna an injection in her arm, then rummaged through the shelves, searching for another ampoule, but seemed unable to find the necessary medicine, looking flustered.

      – Do you speak English?

      – No, – Marianna shook her head.

      Oh… it was clear from Doctor Badya’s expression.

      Marianna sat on the couch. The fear of death wouldn’t leave her, her legs dangling off the couch.

      I’m like deaf and dumb, I can’t understand what he’s saying… (Marianna’s thoughts). The doctor continued to bustle around, checking her pulse every five minutes.

      It seems to have eased…

      Using a translator, Marianna understood that the doctor told her to come here every day. What is wrong with me… it’s all the Sun…

      To Live

      The restaurant had an abundance of food, shrimp were being served, meat was roasting on a spit, possibly lamb. I don’t want to eat at all, but I have to force myself. To live, I have to eat something. In the morning, I forced myself to eat an omelet. I sat and chewed, putting piece by piece into my mouth, and told myself: this is necessary to live. Funny… to pay for a seven-day tour in Egypt and not try anything. At least I’m alive.

      No You

      To hear you,

      Where you are not…

      The dawn has quietly flared —

      A blush of dawn.

      You’ll ask: “Where are you wandering?”

      I’ll answer in return…

      Here you are – seemingly close,

      But you are not there…

      It’s madness,

      It’s a mirage.

      You are not there – as if,

      My heart is cut out…

      Lady in Profile

      Egypt. Hotel “Grand Royal”. A being sat on a chair at a café table. It was Marianna. She stared with a doll-like gaze into the distance, beyond the horizon, where the sea is, where the wind begins. Her figure was like a painting. Her dress, her most beautiful dress with roses, clung to her body. Marianna took several photos, or rather asked a girl to photograph her, and she could post them on Facebook7, the pensive lady in profile. If only her Facebook followers knew how she felt… what lay behind her mask-like, ghostly face; if they knew that I can’t eat, can’t sleep, and I go to Doctor Badya because I almost died. After posting the photo on Facebook8, Marianna thought: I’m not sure I look good, probably everyone in the city sees me suffering with a very sad face, looking into the distance. But then a comment came in from the mother of my patient: “Dear Marianna Ivanovna! You are very beautiful! Have a good rest!”

      Not Love

      The tracks are covered this winter evening…

      You told me – it’s not love, these meetings of ours.

      My head is spinning, what is this?

      I don’t want to find words, I believe in something else.

      Somewhere,

      Sometime,

      To be born again!

      My head will spin,

      I’ll soar like a free bird!

      I’m free from shackles!

      The taste of love is not needed!

      To soar like a bird among dreams,

      Love makes everything worse!

      Who invented this love?

      I want to get drunk!

      I’m free from shackles,

      I’ll soar like a free bird!

      Day of Calls

      Marianna is sitting on the veranda of a hotel in Sharm El Sheikh. Her heart is still pounding, and her hands are trembling. She didn’t sleep well again and has no appetite at all. How untimely…

      A message from the travel agent in Semivetrinsk on Viber: “How are you? How was the trip and have you settled in?”

      She has to respond. With trembling hands, Marianna writes: “Everything is fine, the hotel is good.”

      “Enjoy your vacation,” comes the reply. Then a call: it’s from Evgenia. Marianna picks up the phone.

      “Hi, how are you?”

      “Fine,” Marianna says in a quiet voice. If only they knew how unwell I am here… I feel out of place.

      “Have you been anywhere?” Evgenia’s voice comes through. “Go to the Orthodox church there.”

      “I don’t know, I’d have to go into the city, maybe take a taxi,” Marianna replies, thinking.

      “Bring me something if you go to the church, bring me a cross or an icon.”

      “Okay, if I get there.”

      “Well, bye, enjoy your vacation.”

      Then a message came on Viber from the Chief Administrator at work:

      “How’s your vacation?”

      “Fine, it’s very hot,” Marianna replies.

      “Seek refuge in men.”

      In men… what does she mean by that… Though, there are options, maybe it will indeed help…

      Mephistopheles and Eros

      Sharm El Sheikh.

      During the day, I planned to take a walk around the hotel surroundings. Strangely, there were no people around, just solitary buildings on both sides of the road, beautiful stone structures in Arabic style, and complete desolation as if everything had vanished… Ahead, there were several stalls, seemingly open. Arab vendors waved their hands, inviting visitors to their shops. I walked over to take a look.

      Right at the entrance of one shop, I noticed hanging crosses, different ones with crucifixes. I had promised Evgenia to buy a cross… I took one off the nail. It was a medium-sized cross, nice-looking, with a crucified Christ on a red background.

      – How much is this?

      – Three dollars.

      – Oh… that’s a lot…

      – Well, two, – the Arab vendor showed with his fingers.

      – Okay.

      I looked

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<p>7</p>

Extremist organisation banned in the Russian Federation. hereinafter

<p>8</p>

Extremist organisation banned in the Russian Federation. hereinafter