TURMOIL

creativity, but handicraft.” Colleagues attacked Jasyn from all sides about his: “It turns out that only you create, and everyone else writes? But what about Pushkin, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky?! Do you think they are all artisans?!” “Man is not a deity,” answered Jasyn. “I don’t bow to meat and bone. All in all, I think in my own way. Do I have the right to write neatly right away?!” Jasyn read the two and a half pages again. He thought, worried, despaired and hoped for a talented engineer, scientist, who would propose to turn the desert into the river to irrigate the land, and suddenly found himself in a dead end. Jasyn liked the text. The door quietly opened, and his father appeared in the opening, wearing a white shirt and white underpants. “Well,” he said belligerently. “Sitting from morning to morning again? Are you trying to get into another fight?” “Hey, buddy, close the door, will you?” said Jasyn, putting on a stern look whilst looking up and down his father’s appearance. “What kind of kindergarten did you run away from?” “Look at you, cheeks sunken, eyes like a hole in a well, you can’t breathe in this room, it’s like the hole of a stinking marmot. Why bother, it’ll be all the same, the newspapers will pounce like wasps. Why are you torturing yourself?” Jasyn laughed out loud. “You go, buddy, go. The most you can do is choose a last name. Me and the pseudonym will fulfil the role of the father.” “Who is this pseudonym?” “He’s also something like a father, only prodigal. They are useful when someone is embarrassed by their real name.” Pushing the old man away from the door, his mother entered the room with a bowl. “Oh, looks like Sophia Loren is here as well?!” “Drink this,” his mother said softly. “Otherwise, your intestines will stick to back of your spine,” said the father. “God’s sake, stop talking and go to your room,” the old woman angrily flashed her eyes at the old man. “You cackle at the light, like a hungry chicken! Come on, let’s not bother him.” And she literally dragged the old man along with her. Jasyn took the bowl. It was millet drink flavoured with kurt. Neither hot nor cold. Just right for a quick drink. It wasn’t prepared last night. It was made today; took at least an

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