my native coast.” Two days later, Malika and Bagila were talking, sitting on the balcony. “All women are unhappy,” Malika said, continuing to knit a children’s sweater. “Because our life consists of participation in the sorrows and joys of others. We are much thinner than men, and we forgive them more often. It happens that we ourselves are not sweet, but we suffer for someone, shed tears.” “Lika, tell me, will I be happy?” Malika, leaving her knitting, looked at Bagila, as if trying to understand what she wants to hear in response. “I don’t know… You want to subordinate everything to reason.” “Is it bad?” “Why? If anything, it’s just too good!” Malika spoke diligently and clearly, like a student in a lesson. “Of course, there is nothing wrong with trying to be a good person.” Bagila tried to look into Malika’s eyes. “You don’t seem to be telling the whole truth.” “Me?” Malika made her eyes wide, her tone falsely surprised. “Why should I deceive you?” “I do not know. You speak somehow evasively and too calmly. Why are you so addicted to knitting? It’s still far away until winter, you will have time to knit this sweater.” Malika blushed as if caught in a lie, put down her knitting and began to speak, carefully hiding her eyes. “To be honest, a thinking and understanding per- son cannot always be happy. After all, he spends all his strength and energy on the lives of others, but he himself has no time to live.” “Meaning…” “What do you mean ‘meaning…?’ Maybe that really is happiness, judging by and large. And if on a personal note…” she shrugged, “you know, most good people are unhappy, but the most amazing thing is that they never consider themselves to be unhappy. I do not understand this…” “Lika, you are somewhat thoughtful today, more than ever before. I only asked about myself…” “And I’m only talking about you.” “So you’re saying that by and large I am happy, but not personally? What kind of fluff is that?! And then, I do not consider myself unhappy.” “Maybe I’m not speaking clearly, but you have the makings of these qualities. Who knows what kind of life you have ahead of you. A person is changeable… Peo- ple whom I considered sensual and subtle in my youth have now completely changed. Many of them became cunning,
Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153