The view from here was just wonderful - even without the theatrical binoculars, I could see everything that was happening in every detail. In front of me was an enchanting picture of human passion and "bestial" lust worthy of the "brush" of the great master of erotic cinema Tinto Brass. As in a slow frame, slowly swaying downwards-upwards, frying, the sporty ass of an agronomist, making frictional movements in the intimate, muffled light of a night lamp, under which I once lay and forgotten by everyone the unfortunate "boilermaker". "I'll kill a bitch!" - I thought evil and with horror realized that, really, I'm ready at this moment to kill a man, as I began to think very coolly about the plan of killing and avoiding criminal responsibility.
Finally, the agronomist ended his "dirty" business and left, apparently, to wash himself. And Olya stayed in bed, painting her legs "beautifully" and dreamily put her hands behind her head. More to look at all this, for some reason, not at all. I went home, completely crushed by female cunning and human meanness, feeling nothing in my soul except contempt for myself. So that's why the "boilermaker" Volodya persistently conveyed to Olga the request to meet with me - he wanted to sincerely warn me about this side of the character of the "fatal" girl.
Olga came to me exactly after 3 days, as she promised, and, as if nothing had happened, began to tweet, telling the latest news of the "secular" life of the Avangard factory. I listlessly listened to her, and then, with no reason, never said: "And I recently went to the wonderful film" One hundred days in Palermo! "Olya immediately stopped and looked at me with studying eyes. "When did I go?" I called the day and the session of her "legendary" campaign in the cinema. She was even more embarrassed. "No, they say the film - so-so!" - Only the girl could pronounce. "You know what, Olya," I said decisively. -We need to stop our relationship. This is not love for a long time, but solid lies and deceit! For both of us it will be better to leave, to part for ever! "" Please! "Shouted Olya and wept bitterly. She ran to the door, hurriedly dressed and left - gone forever from my life, to occasionally return from oblivion in the form of a long forgotten, sad image.
However, after severing all relations with Olya, I clearly overestimated my capabilities. Stefan Zweig has a marvelous novel "Amok" on this subject (the author is a painful state of mental fatigue caused by an obsession). The hero of the novel is a gynecologist, obsessed with a passion for her patient, chasing her around the world to take possession of it, and finally becomes completely insane after learning about the death (partly through his fault) of this girl, who became "forbidden" Fruit, which he did not manage to disrupt. Something similar seems to have happened to me. For a long time, for 5 months, right up to the army itself, I could spend hours standing by her hostel, feverishly peering into the window of her room in the hope of seeing at least the silhouette of this "fatal" beauty, which caused such severe spiritual pain. Some kind of sadomasochism, a real sadomasochism in Altaic! In March 1986, finally, our three-month training and production practice ended at the ROVD. Oleg Korobkov came to Barnaul, who, in order to distract me from the love experiences caused by the break with Olga, offered me another stunning adventure - an "extreme tour" to Tashkent and Samarkand, with only 50 rubles each and using as a hotel for spending the night Train car. And that the trip had a more or less specific goal, it was decided to make a friendly visit to a good acquaintance of Oleg Rafael Hizmatullin, whom he met in one of the campaigns in the Altai Mountains.
In just two and a half days we covered a huge distance almost to Uzbekistan, driving along the dull Kazakh steppes in the compartment car on the branded (then still very decent) train Irkutsk-Tashkent. Everything went smoothly until we arrived in Shymkent, located directly on the state border of Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. There, in Shymkent, with our train there was an extremely unpleasant story, which could be regarded as a bad sign at the beginning of this "epoch-making" journey.
And what happened was that our locomotive with all the foolishness rammed the truck at the crossing, which resulted in the death of two Kazakhs, who are in the cab of the truck. We all left the train and waited for four hours until finally the investigative team arrived and examined the scene of the incident. All this time, while the train was standing, the Kazakh driver continued to agonize and died literally before our eyes from injuries incompatible with life.
I walked around our diesel locomotive and just admired how the child is the same power as this unit, that it so easily faked and threw a three-ton truck by itself like a toy, and then dragged it 50 meters more like a baby carriage , Their wagons on the railway line! From all this terrible, just murderous action, the locomotive left, on memory, only a slight scratch on the bumper and several cars - and nothing more!
Arriving in Tashkent, Oleg and I immediately plunged into the marvelous atmosphere of the famous Alai market, not having
