TURMOIL

able to answer it. “Your lipstick is of high quality. Despite the champagne you drank, it has not lost its taste on your lips,” said Jasyn, so as not to be silent. “Is this the first thing you think about after a kiss?” “Yes, as long as no other problems concern me.” By his harsh tone, Bagila understood Jasyn’s inner state. She already knew well that he talked about the lit- tle things when he wanted to hide his mental confusion from those around him. “I almost forgot,” Jasyn lit a cigarette somewhat hastily. “I just saw the artist who painted your portrait… Now he is painting another one.” Bagila raised her eyebrows in surprise when she heard that Jasyn knew about that portrait. “How do you know this?” “You yourself told me what he looks like. It’s guy called Estay Imanov, a well-known portrait painter. One of the few artists I respect. He had two solo exhibitions. He’s young. Talented.” “Oh my god, there are just too many talented peo- ple in this world!” She sighed softly, not daring to look at Jasyn. “No, it’s not like that,” he retorted calmly. “Not everyone is gifted. There are amateurs – yes! But real talent is rare.” “Did he say he was painting a second portrait?” “What’s wrong with that? He has been watching you for a long time.” Bagila’s eyes widened. “Oh my god! This is utter shamelessness! As if I don’t have enough guys following me around!” “He didn’t follow you.” “What do you mean?” “Simple. He simply follows the object of his future work of art. For him, you are not Bagila Karataevna, not a student of the Faculty of History, not the painful love of a writer broken in the newspapers, but just material – and nothing more.” “Thanks.” The girl bit her lip in disgust. “Maybe you need me as material? Write your next story, after which I will also not be needed.” “You know it happens. In writing practice, even valuable material loses its significance over time.” The indifferent, calm answer of Jasyn threw Bagila into a rage. “Rather than waiting for me to become irrelevant, it’s better to leave of my own free will. I bet it will be right thing to do.” “Don’t be scared, I don’t write about love and beau- tiful girls. And then, for me you are not an object.

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