Arthur Poghosyan by Ghisha Kukva by Finnialla

Grisha Kukva Arthur Poghosyan

Arthur Poghosyan

First Digital Publication April 2025

Cover Design by Finnialla Wright

Published by PULP Literary Magazine pulplitmag com

This book introduces the reader to a great work of world-famous Russian writer. Grisha Kukva (born March 12, 1996) already left a tremendous legacy in literature: about a hundred volumes of prose, dramaturgy, poems, critical articles, and essays - all of these were never written. But still - he is a legend. Why?

Famous cap, a bib with a cherry (which became his «business card»), and delicate skin. Kukva didn’t know yet about his future hard twists and turns of fate which life has prepared for him. 19 assassination attempts, 7 deaths, 2 children, 15 divorces without even one wedding, 2 life sentences, 8 poisonings by eating a noodle, an interstellar expedition, life in Budapest, purchase of a Czechoslovak furniture wall - this is a small list of events happened in Kukva’s life. For the first introduction, his cult novel «(c) Arthur Poghosyan» fits perfectly.

Who is Arthur Poghosyan?

An old man? A legend? A little boy? Or just a man on his retire? Finally, Argentina's government found his rare interview he gave to «The World» magazine:

- My name is Arthur Poghosyan. I'm a small businessman.

After those words, interview accidentally has broken down...

According to rumors, Arthur Poghosyan is known as a human with supernatural and super-regenerative abilities. He hunts every weekend, but only for birds. He has an ancient military collection and became a frequent guest of deluxe-class auctions in western Sicily. He is excellently skilled in Aikido, but there are some suspicions of prostatitis. Anyway, who possesses any information about personality and history of Arthur Poghosyan, kindly asking to contact ContactManager.

Contact-Manager #1

My name is Contact-Manager. I’m here to tell you a story how I met Arthur Poghosyan. Once, I gave up on women. Who else did it - knows: as soon as you decide to give up on them, women furiously try to pull you back into the market of relationships. Long story short: they crave to be craved. And when you are officially refusing to feed their minds by the bubbling of your testosterone, their attention to you becomes unavoidable.

I haven't had sex for about 2 years. After serving in the army, I thought maybe the time had come. Next evening, I bought a ticket from Saint-Petersburg to Moscow and had a journey by train where I was surrounded by 3 young chicks. Next thing I remember was a concert, where many of other women talked to me. One of them sat down pretty close to me, and after this concert we had a dinner

at the bar. I gave her my scarf as a gift and put her on my lap. She spoke to me gently:

- There will be no sex.

I called her a taxi and never saw her again.

To be more precisely I hadn't seen her for a little while. Spring holidays were coming. The girl with my scarf texted me. She wanted to visit me and spend spring holidays together, also to bring me back my scarf. I was in need to be prepared quickly, therefore I bought a blanket for covering while sleeping, a new pillow, slippers for walking, towel for hands, towel for feet, hangers for clothes to hang them, a hair dryer, an iron, cutting board for bread & cheese - there were plenty of things which I never used at my samurai's palace. But while we will be together, we might need some of this stuff.

I bought all these things and waited for her to come over. The closer her visit was, the stronger became my desire of fuck... Plenty of women think that men are just animals which only dream about sex. They are right. I was just a guy who wanted to cut a good piece of a girl's ass for himself. So, holidays began and girl has really arrived. This evening I kindly asked her where she was planning to spend this night.

- I'll stay at my aunt's place.

Hell, no. Turn on the saddest classical music. The violin of the greatest tragedy was erasing all my dreams about hugs and kisses tonight. Indeed, I was an animal. Just like all others were. I did my best with this thing about giving up on women, so how the fuck this aunt occurred? At the old times, giving up on women was a very smart way to catch more female's attention. Unfortunately, I realized: it wasn't working anymore.

After seeing girl home, I took a drive to mine by trolleybus. The scarf she gave me didn't even have her odor. What a shame. While sitting in trolleybus I watched the screen where war heroes were displayed.

One of them was Eugenie Sky - 17 years old girl, she was working at the Nazi’s canteen and poisoned the soup, as a result more than 100 soldiers were dead. Killers are always becoming heroes during the war. Plus, the same named girl broke my heart once.

I should say that every year I receive messages with pictures «Happy Holiday!» or another shit with all the wishes and nice words like «love», «joy», «wealth» which have nothing in common with reality I live in. Real life, yes? Sometimes it can be a bit unpleasant, so you can escape from it to the cinema, games, religion, sex, patriotic feelings and especially holidays. Which allow people to sit down at the table and pour the glasses with the second chance, with an opportunity to live, an opportunity to look out of the kitchen’s window, to laugh. I couldn't use such services. Couldn’t trust these holidays. Filling the glasses were more like a betrayal. I didn't want to deal with illusions. That's why I came to a great grey nowhere, until I got married. We worked both, me as an engineer, and she was a writer. Soon, we bought the first car. I taught her how to drive when the truck faced us. The next thing I remember, I was crawling out of car and heard her final words: «Beware the yellow snow».

I felt guilty with not even a scratch on me, realizing my wife has gone. It was the moment when I was going through her stuff and found a letter by Arthur Poghosyan. I thought I knew every friend of her, but couldn't remember his name. Of course, very soon I found nothing in my pocket to pay for apartments, because every penny went to a glass. I moved to my friends' flat, but soon couldn't bother their cozy life by my presence and left without a word. I walked around cathedrals and cemeteries, slept there. Later friends found me and brought to life again. First things first, so I had to find a job. So, I hooked an eye on a contact-manager vacancy, offered by the man named Arthur Poghosyan. Young guy barely older than me. He seemed sharp, extravagant. It was the first time I saw him. And it was unpleasant, even embarrassing. I was trying to talk about his letter I found through my wife's stuff. But he didn’t want to hear about that, then all of a sudden, he spat at me while I was talking. That damn spit hit me right in my throat, which has almost sent me after my wife.

Anyway, he left me a pager during our interview, which I carried in the back pocket, thinking about maybe I could catch him again to ask a few questions. But Arthur Poghosyan disappeared as accidentally as he came. It took a while to get me a job and rent another apartments. The world continued to stay the same as it was, and my life was alright. Searching for Arthur Poghosyan haven't brought any results yet. Soon, the second wave of melancholy came over me. I was that close to bankruptcy and starting to drink again, and also (suddenly) to kill myself. I didn't want to cry neither scream, therefore after working I was running circles on a football field. I set myself an aim: if I am able to finish one thousand laps, then I will give myself a permission to die. While not achieving required results, I decided to reduce the killing permission to one hundred laps which were equal to forty kilometers. Next Saturday & Sunday I dedicated myself to completing it. I had nothing to lose, even if I had... I ran more than one day and finally did it - green light. Now I had to find out how to finish myself. Actually, ten or fifteen laps more would make me dead already.

How strange but whole next week I went to work as usual, ate cereals for breakfast, had lunch at cafe, took myself home by subway, fell asleep and woke up. For some reasons I changed my mind. I wanted to live. And one of those days with cereals, job and subway... The pager beeped. There were digital numbers that looked like coordinates. According to the map, that place was at «Tavrichesky» garden near one famous writer’s memorial. Under his right foot was lying a yellow parchment, which was similar to the letter I once found among my wife's stuff. Beyond any doubt, it had to be Arthur Poghosyan.

Fate

Fate and its place in human’s life worried the greatest minds for a while. This fate concept also hasn't ennobled the grey color of my everyday life by sterility of its absence. That's why me and my new Contact-Manager had a plan to face a challenge, according to which I will spend almost 37 years in complete isolation, having in my pocket only «Parliament Aqua» cigarettes and gingerbread. I ate my gingerbread much earlier before being isolated while title «Impotence» on cigarettes attracted my very attention. In hysterics, I tore up the contract right in front of Contact-Manager's face.

I DON'T CARE!

He wanted to object, but I spat at him and... Accidentally hit him directly in his mouth, that thing made him suffocate and cough for a long time. I used this moment to run out. This very evening, I got it: there is no fate at all.

Just like any religion, fate is an artificially grown concept, approved by the brain of the highest nexus in the food chain. It is like someone much more intelligent than human, pushes this golden connection between irresponsibility of his actions and wonderful opportunity to justify himself. This kind of friendly and warm hand, which helps to absorb an unpleasant and annoying feelings of guilt and anxiety. Fate in its core loudly screams that: «YOU DON'T HAVE THE FREE WILL,» which is a great lie.

What is this all about? For what reason homo sapiens is that much in love with this fate conception? You know, maybe it is like a blissful salvation for a person, who just by nature between truth and lies chooses deception, illusions and sunglasses, in which pink shade of his own reflection with significant fanaticism will successfully emphasize his own attractiveness.

Finishing with my «Parliament Aqua» and watching the morning sight from the window I called Contact-Manager. The number doesn't exist they told. And then I went to bed.

Contact-Manager #2

After working, I went home. Took off all clothes, lit up a candle and lay down under the blanket. I wished some woman will open my door, make me a dinner, fragrant her sweet perfume. Somebody knocked the door. Full of hope, I opened up.

- Who are you?

Mail guy gave me an envelope, then turned back and disappeared.

«Holy...» - I thought.

$10,0 per day

Oh, good old Middlesex. Its English style. Cozy evenings on the right side of Thames River. Headphones are playing «Beatles» with their sensuous «Michele». This is how we dressed long before... We worked hard to reach out the good taste, tamed the ornate tentacles of surrogated postmodern fashion... We were alive.

- What about now?

I'm working in a factory for $10,0 per day. What is that? Money? The head of technician department pushed my back while I was moving upstairs:

- God damn, son! HURRY UP! - and he ran ahead of me.

It was that moment when I felt an extreme thirst in using martial arts like combat sambo, but I just said:

- Why should I?

Hitting his back with this sharp question, I wanted to emphasize the superiority of my independence in front of a representative of a high-ranked class, and before he answered I spat at stupid boss jacket. But I didn't mention my lips were frozen due to winter, and the spit landed on my chin. As fast as possible I covered my face by hands and pretended like if I sneezed.

Boss had turned around and found something alarming in my eyes. I got one

thing straight:

«We will meet again...»

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. A compliment to the patent of deck lighting system with gas-discharge lamps for emergency purposes, USA, Ottawa, 2016.

Contact-Manager #3

Mail guy brought two text records in one envelope. I opened the second.

Whom I work for?

I miss Middlesex. The morning promenade through the sunlit campus. The great pinnacle of my youth. I was buying half a liter of «Fiji» and was inspired by Ayn Rand's «The Fountainhead». Holy saints, I didn't even have a scholarship and stayed damn happy. I wanted to die young...

Finishing with reading an article of Vedic philosophy's impact to Nikola Tesla's free energy comprehension, I was going to work. There was «Gut's Theme» playing on a laptop, while my branded cream pea-soup with mushrooms has been cooking. Mushrooms should be fried first, mixed up with vegetable oil, sour cream and tomato paste - taste a life of luxury.

After stepping out of bus, I saw some woman sitting on a concrete. That’s why I started sortingall of my coins fast, but I couldn't just throw her a single coin, so I shifted the whole banknote from my wallet to her paper cup.

- Why I gave her money?

I went home, had a beer and decided not to give a single penny to anyone who’s sitting on a concrete again. Because I didn't even understand why I did it before. What if it was an Evolution itself which wanted to exсlude people like this woman? And I was just stopping the development of all humanity by shifting

banknotes from my wallet to a paper cups. Besides, how could my money help this woman when even I was a beggar, who tried to survive by working in a factory while getting an education.

Soon I became aware about this woman grabbed much more money than I ever did! She had a boss! What the hell I was doing? Well, now I know the real truth.

Contact-Manager #4

After mail guy's visit, I started digging info about Arthur Poghosyan. There was nothing about Arthur Poghosyan. Meanwhile his text records kept coming continuously. This time, new envelope was needed to be found in the forest. There was a police patrol which saw me walking alone surrounded by trees and also holding the phone. Seems like I was looking suspicious for them, they obviously thought I was a junkie who was searching for his dope. They started to run rapidly towards me. I stood still and asked them as confident as I could:

- Are you running after me?

They answered:

- Yes.

And then they asked me to show up the phone's display. I showed it up and all suspicions got left. I was clean.

«Handballand»

I was driving home from work by bus full of hope and people. And I found out myself standing under the engine. The sole of the shoes started to melt. I felt panic. And sorry about levitation courses which I skipped at past times.

The bus was stuck in traffic. I lost sense of time. Finally, there was a stop point

where people emptied the bus. And I sat down near one gypsy-woman with a kid. Kid's shoes had a nice battle with my trousers. His shoes took a victorious win. And trousers suffered a dramatic defeat.

Acting like Johnny Depp from Jarmusch movie, I went into supermarket. Took bananas, apples, a pack of Idaho peas and one yeast-free bread without sugar.

While Idaho peas has been cooking, I started my sport-exercises. After cooking and sporting I took a cold shower and had a sense that the worst part of the day was gone.

Suddenly, I remembered my school and how participated in PE's Olympiad. Besides my sport-skills (which were actually good), in this Olympiad I was required of sport history knowledge. On the paper of test there was a question:

- Name the country where Handball was established.

The question was without any answers below, so I just wrote «Handballand». As I was told a bit later, my «Handballand» act disgraced the school.

Oh God, good old days when I didn't have a job and a second job, didn't study at the university, didn't have a financial debt... It was just life.

I finished the dinner and settled down. An hour later I will be speaking about second job projects with another boss. For what sake? All I can say is just I can't stand the bus rides anymore.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. Poetic technography, dedicated to the 3 rd part of the 1 st article of the Constitution of the Independent Republic of Handballand, three years before moving to London.

Contact-Manager #5

The next record I received by bird. Pigeon landed down on my opened window. Pooped a bit. There was a little piece of paper tamed to his right feet by string. I found a fragment of map there. I was never able to read maps. So, I gave a mission to translate this little paper to geodetic bureau. Two days later they answered. Thus, I discovered where hides another text record.

Women

During the summer holidays, my parents finally said «no» to my basic needs financing, it was ended with the following words:

- We have no money for you.

I made a strategically correct decision to find any possible way to earn money. The choice fell on a brick factory, where working conditions had no requests for an official employment. At the factory I was met by an old boss: «First time here?»

- Yeah.

- Can’t find any normal job? - she asked.

- I like to work like a man, - I said.

She led me along the rail tracks. There were platforms with a huge number of bricks. I was new body here, endless quantity of predatory eyes of many naked men were looking at me walking next to the boss. I was afraid to look back at them and just moved further, highly doubting about the correctness of my strategically correct decision. Finally, we came to the last platform, the old boss shouted:

- Lera! Show this guy how to work.

A young girl 25-27 years old appeared from behind the bricks. I climbed up to her platform, she said:

- Hello.

- Hello! - I responded.

- Can’t find any normal job?

- I like this one!

She put the bricks in a special configuration which was growing into a huge cube. Then it has to be strapped with a green ropes and transported to the warehouse by fork-lift car. I could not understand how she works among these naked predators, putting out hot bricks from the stove to a cubes in summer 40degree heat. I asked:

- How long you’ve been working here?

- 2 years.

I lasted 3 weeks at this factory.

It was the same in any place I’ve been. In whatever field of activity I fell into, I met fragile women who courageously coped with the burden of the most unpleasant conditions that seemed unbearable to me. I have learned significant lessons for the rest of life from contact with girls. No matter how dark or deep I found myself, my eyes were always looking for a woman. Seeing her, I understood that as a man I just have to cope with anything, anything the delicate and vulnerable She copes with. It calms me down.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. An example of understanding neosexism during a lunch break at the «Hide» restaurant, Mayfair, London, March 2019.

Contact-Manager

After my wife’s death I lost any meaning of life. Arthur Poghosyan is the only string, which makes a connection between me and the real world. Even if I’ll not be capable of solving his mystery, at least, this chase keeps me alive.

Serving the others

I was listening to «Lascia Ch'io Pianga» from Trier's «Antichrist», drinking wine and watching stars from the balcony. I have to say, I was bored. Some mosquito was buzzing, destroying my self-control. In vain I waved my hands, hoping he would finally surrender. Then I fell asleep. Dawn brought itself early. I woke up and tilted my head back. Two flycatchers were sitting on the wall. «Why don't you eat mosquitos?» I took off my phone from charging, scrolled some «Instagram» and made a few sips of «Fiji» and with an open door, which was letting light of the sun through, I fell asleep again.

Some events, which were taking place in the 21st century, have attracted my very attention. Look at «TikTok» at least. The government has reached the apogee of corruption, using its position and resources to achieve its personal goals, where the main thing is to preserve its current power. What terms do they use when broadcasting in the mass media about their activities? Nearby concepts like «public benefits». As if each of their actions is supposed to be based on bringing something good to others. I see: who shouts the most about «serving others»?People who drowned in their greed and vices, people who unable to create. There are some commodity-exporting countries, their economies are supported by fossil fuels or agricultural products. However, in situation of absence of any creation-process as an alternative way of enrichment, any reserve will exhaust itself. And from which resource you'll replenish this absence? Of course, from the people.

As if dropping a straw into a glass of a public smoothie, the authorities will suck the remaining blood from the body in a coma to the end, raising the retirement age and taxes. How this will be explained through the media? Of course, it is a public benefit: «It will be better this way», «We hope for your understanding».

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. Speech at the XXXII G7 Summit on behalf of Japan, about supply of energy resources from the North Atlantic Ocean, 2016.

Contact-Manager #7

Okay, I understood. I was trapped into a torture. There were women walking down the streets who didn’t want to be with me, and many of «Mercedes» cars which I couldn’t afford. That’s why I downloaded «Tinder», where signed myself as a Contact-Manager. And also invested money into a stocks on a long-term conditions. Every month, through an anonymous encrypted channel, I received coordinates, following which I traveled around the world, finding various records under the authorship of Arthur Poghosyan. I found the next record when climbed on the top of the slagheap (big pile of recycled coal), the record was hidden among the recycled coal.

Ocean and puddle

When I wonder about life for the sake of others and life for the sake of yourself, I consider the first one as much closer option to my heart.

Serving others means sharing my warmth and energy with people and nature. Sharing love through my unique way. It could be kitchen help for mother, money transaction to some Baikal Lake safety foundation, or maybe if you’re kind of producer, you can try to unleash the creativity potential, for example, of the Munich youth.

Before share «something», «it» requires to be accumulated first. In other words, serving the others is preceded by serving yourself, to discover and unbox your inner potential.

I was always afraid of losing my time while taking care of myself instead of others. Afraid of doing something with my own progress while strewing my thin energy puddle among the friends, following the principle of «serving others». I blindly tried to be good, supportive, polite and sympathetic.

At that time, I was plagued by thoughts that living for others sake is much bigger than only being polite with friends or giving a beggar a couple of euros. I understood that do something great and meaningful you can only when you have a whole ocean of power, which you can share without any burnout.

If human creates something, he’s sharing goods of his creation with others.

Studying the examples of the most successful creators, I realized that the life for others sake which I pursued for, was possible only when I live for my own pleasure, creating and bringing into the world ideas which correlate with my inner state. There is no need to be afraid to waste time on yourself personally.

It's easy to get confused in principles of serving yourself and serving others.

There is a path of theft, violence, deception, fear. As I see, it's a dead end.

But creation and discovering the way of sharing your love, finding joy in each new day - this is a high level life. This is the truth and the power. And if you choose this path, then everything will be fine.

Then the ocean will be opened.

Contact-Manager #8

I’ve watched an interview with Yohji Yamamoto. Then interview with Jeff Buckley. Opened «Tinder», put many of my likes. I put to everyone. Wrote to a beautiful girl. We went for a walk and I asked:

- Do you know Arthur Poghosyan?

- Who is he?

I had geoposition of the next record. And suggested her to come with me. We came close to a hollow tree, I put my hand into this tree till the elbow and took the record out.

- What’s this? - she asked.

Battle. No… It’s war

Asphalt roadway, paved on both sides for pedestrians, roadway which leading to a place that belongs to me. Place where I wrote «Home» - a poem that entered the culture of mankind, having a tremendous impact on public consciousness.

Moon was burning while remaining light of the fading day was almost extinguished. My course was towards the sun, northwest course. Young shepherds with goats walked and passed by as if from the pages of children’s fairytale. Autumn comes earlier here. Leaves by falling down generate an orange foundation, which looks similar to Persian carpet in Brodsky's anteroom. Christmas tree was torn out together with its roots by strong winds. This fir tree was looking at the rest trees on a small height left to fall, grabbing for wire-lines of street lighting by its prickly branches. Beauty, tragedy. Nature sacrifices itself, making fir tree as a simple soldier to strike down the infrastructure of homo sapiens. Battle. No… It’s war. How beautiful is here. I sat down on my favorite bench and took out fruits from my bag.

- You can’t be here, - someone said.

I turned back and looked at the man:

- You want me to leave?

- It’s prohibited to stay here.

- But I came here.

This security keeper watched his phone and started to push buttons furiously, calling the police or something. I couldn’t sit here with comfort and write masterpieces like «Home» while surrounded with such nonsense. I went away, eating my fruits.

They took away my freedom of choice, they want to steal 1 year of my life in the army, they’ve already taken 13 years of external education for the sake of a certificate and two diplomas, they took a lot from me, and I could bear with it. But now this country was trying to take my favorite place away - my secret corner of a brilliant writer. I couldn't believe it. Do this to me?

Well, the great ones have always been treated cruelly. I should get used to the hardships. On my way back I ate plums, some of them were sweet. I missed for being alone. At the same time, if someone would call me now, I would agree to meet. Looking at the cars passing by, I wanted to see a familiar one and wave my hand. Being mistaken in the prerequisites, I decided to go to the forest.

Yes, I'm going to the forest. I'm a genius. The craziest in this city. Maybe more? In the country? In the world? I'm Arturo Bandini. Am I great? The Greatest. I'm walking into the forest while it’s totally dark. The lights were out. I walked like in a dream. Darkness surrounded, and I was all alone in it.

A couple of times I directed my flashlight on particularly suspicious places, they all turned out to be a pile of abandoned plastic dishes. All my fears turned out to be garbage. I have reached the right place. It was scary, I was afraid of every rustle. Black branches almost blocked the already dark sky. I heard something suspicious from the left side. The moving silhouette made me hold my breath. It was a dog. I didn't like them before, now it seems I can love them too. Dog jumped up and ran away into the darkness. I thought I had to go.

When I came out of the forest, I felt relieved. The sky here was starry. I remembered about the «Bucket», which someone calls «Big Dipper» constellation. It always reminds me of a question mark. I couldn't find it for a long time. Here it is. Looking at this constellation, I began to cry, feeling the

pain of loss. But I understood that it was normal part of me, just another stage of transformation.

Contact-Manager #9

We meet each other at the entry to a restaurant. She had full black sophisticated silk dress, graceful makeup, little sandals. I spoke to her:

- You are just like future.

- Why?

- You cannot be recognized.

I opened a pack. Took for myself and gave to her, then lit our cigarettes. I suppose, I fell in love. At this Italian restaurant we tasted baked camembert in plum sauce, tagliatelle with mushrooms, apple strudel and Taiga sbiten’ to wash this meal down. Women who weren’t touched by pain don't attract me. I was sitting in front of her with a working day imprinted on my face, but I still kept the charm. Evening came. Under the canopy of the entrance, we were sheltering from the rain. After our first kiss, she asked:

- From now… Will you never forget me?

- What?

- Will you ever forget me?..

Autumn

I sat down in the alley in front of wholesale store, its size was as a stamping factory. I was advised in «Storytel» app for audiobooks listening, it occurred, it

needs a payment for subscribing… I deleted all the people who advised me «Storytel». My great-uncle by father’s line always told me:

- Son, mark my words: whatever some people want money for, others will give it for free.

I answered:

- Great-uncle, why do you call me a son?

- I ask questions here, - answered great-uncle.

This vivid memory overwhelmed me into a dark stream of intense reflection, that’s why I didn’t notice an appearance of a woman in the alley. I glanced at her using the collar of an old coat as an invisibility suit. She was barefoot - this fact brought me into affective state. Elena Temnikova’s music started playing in my head. As the woman approached, I realized: the woman was naked. Only an old open windbreaker from the local «Second Hand» covered her solid tits. She sat down next to me closely. I thought I had to go.

- I’m sorry, I had to go.

The headphones in my ears ignored any objection from this naked woman to my (as it might seem to her) fast capitulation.

«Storytel» app played Tolstoy's book in a free weekly period. After about a hundred meters of escape from her, I turned around. The naked woman wasn't there, she left. Lucky I am. With a bit sense of sadness I thought, there were much younger and prettier girls who were interested in me before...

Walking through the autumn fallen leaves, I remembered the death of my greatuncle. And I thought I will most likely follow his example.

(c) Artur Poghosyan. The answer to the question about «Moscow cases» in the framework of the backstage of «Nevzorov’s Wednesdays» at the Helvetia Hotel,

St. Petersburg, September, 2016.

Contact-Manager #10

What a beautiful girl... Beauty is the sunlight I don't trust to. Only water I trust, especially the one, which falls from the sky. For a long time, I didn't have a dream in which I realized that I was dreaming. After work, I took a bath and immediately went to a rest. Long time sleeping contributed lucidity in a dream. I began to fall into textures, into an empty, black and calm world, there were no desires, no thoughts, except for one:

- Do you see me here? Please, take care of me.

Vegan Public

On the way out of the bar, I checked my pockets. There was no wallet. Neither at the table or inside the bag. I tried my luck by asking the waitress. She couldn’t help me. I called a taxi (which I was recently riding in):

- Taxi dispatch service, how can I help you?

I told the operator all details and took the number of a taxi driver.

- I got nothing, - taxi driver said.

Using Touch-ID function, I took off all my cash, blocked the debit card and went to the next bar. The warm mezzo-soprano whispered a slight bitterness in my ears, but without fanaticism. Driver’s license can be restored. After getting drunk in the next bar, I ran towards the bus station. A minute before departure, I managed to catch the bus. A very young girl was sitting next to me. She put her knee against mine and lowered her shoulder. That’s how we drove all the way.

I was already at home when entered an interesting public-page of vegan recipes. Finally, I thought: «Why should I cook for myself?» I am 21 years old, I have an ancient military collection and also have some hedonist tendencies - that's

why I sent an advertisement into this public-page.

«A YOUNG GIRL WHO KNOWS HOW TO COOK IN VEGAN WAY IS REQUIRED. NO SEX, FLEXIBLE SCHEDULE, PAYMENT: 150 EUROS/MONTH»

The advertisement was published. But two minutes later I received a hundred accusations of sexism. And a bit after I got banned on this vegan public-page. Wait a moment! I received the first private message regarding my business... Eighteen years old, naive eyes, good-looking girl. I asked:

- Can you make a fried tofu with spices for me?

- No problem, sweetie. I remember your smell from the bus-trip.

It was that girl. After a little consideration, I remembered I was married. And I supposed, the appearance of a young girl in the house will dramatically increase my chances to divorce. But if I'm married, why have I cook for myself? I called my lawyer and asked for divorce. The first court hearing will be on Monday.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. Author's method of weight loss technique, presentation for employees of «Yandex» company in Helsinki, April 7, 2016.

Contact-Manager #11

We broke up with beautiful girl, that’s life. I wanted my own «Mercedes-Benz», an old one sedan, to drive around the city. To think my thoughts over.

I dream about 28-year-old woman, a rich one, who would write to me:

«My God! I barely found you. Aren't you Contact-Manager, the only person Arthur Poghosyan contacts? Does he really exist? Anyway, you're so handsome! Come to me to Prague, I am waiting for you and I am ready to marry you, if only you would stay and share with me the joys and sorrows of this country...»

However, during this month, not a single offer from a rich woman was received.

Warm Countries

It was an average summer Saturday. I was on my way to orphan home, gave three children «PlayStation 4» and made a transaction of $17 000 to the organization’s electronic account.

I wasn’t happy about Trump's foreign policy at that time, frankly speaking, he completely ruined my trust. Finally, after finishing my business and opening the door of my «Mercedes- Benz» I turned on my morning playlist, but something went wrong, and suddenly I realized it was playing «The Doors» with their iconic song «The End».

Misfortunes never come alone. That day I was crossed out from the list of candidates for an increased scholarship, I quarreled with the director of an energy company and was refused in 58 interviews. I had nothing left, broken, I came home earlier than usual, I found red moccasins and a «CSKA» (football club) scarf in the hallway.

«For Christ’s sake, I don't wear red moccasins» - that thought ran through my head.

Some strange premonition prompted me to open the bedroom’s door. The horror, the horror. There was Lil Uzi Vert embracing my wife. I told him how I appreciate his tracks and left the apartment, of course I didn’t forget to take my mother-of-pearl colored vapor to smoke, «Alpen Gold» chocolate, and my favorite «CSKA» scarf. When I was already left, suddenly my «iPhone» rang, godfather was in coma. With acceptance of reality, I went for sports as usualfollowing my schedule. I was dreaming about warm countries that night.

Contact-Manager #12

More than two years have passed since our first meeting with Arthur Poghosyan. During this time, I was gathering information, made some conclusions... The picture shows that Arthur Poghosyan was an ordinary student. He spent about a year in England for an exchange program. After that, he returned home and received a master's degree without attending lectures (external). He was invited to London to defend his doctoral dissertation and to become a teacher. He was excellent English speaker, and an average Italian.

Catholics

I was looking at the phone screen, scrolling memes. Unknown telephone number appeared. I picked up. Sounded like a woman's voice. She said my European Diploma was ready.

- Who gave you this number? - I said.

Girl's voice timidly:

- You, sir.

I scratched my head and leaned back on a chair. Half of my cigar was left - a gift for one pawnshop business assistance. I thought about the whole garbage in my apartment which should be thrown away. Then, I extinguished smoldering point of a cigar via glass table. Sneezed a little. She took out her stuff today. Scent of her perfume was staying in a hallway. It didn't have enough time to disappear. Scents escalate when autumn comes. Besides, I enjoy autumn due to the absence of necessity to change socks every single day. She had specific scent... I smell it and some nostalgic memories come flooding in.

I called a taxi and went outside. Put all garbage into the car trunk, gave to chief 5 USD and asked him to get the hell out.

- Sir, excuse me?

- Take it to the nearest dump.

- I'm taxi driver, not a garbage man!

I just laughed.

As long as I can remember - I've never meant to hurt somebody. But I always did. During visit to a catholic church, I was speaking to a clergyman:

- Why everything's so mixed up, Father?

- Hell, if I know.

Unfortunately, religion had no solution for my issues. I came back to half of a cigar and opened up single malt whisky. European Diploma will wait for tomorrow.

Contact-Manager #13

There was no deep knowledge about private life of Arthur Poghosyan. Practically nothing. Nevertheless, there is an info, that he accepted a proposal for a taking PhD in London. However, he couldn’t escape his native country without military ticket. Having his own principles, he entered the army. Without any tricks. The place of his army service is still unknown, obviously, this information is confidential.

After serving the army, he moved to Chernivtsi, to a house owned by his parents. Nothing is known about his family either. The investigation in Chernivtsi made it clear that a man who fits to Arthur Poghosyan’s description was collecting documents for moving to London. After three months of preparing documents and real estate transactions, this man immigrated to England.

Sunday morning

I was always wandering about my own castle. To dwell near forest. In total darkness your attention is distracted. But try to light a candle in this dark space and you find yourself looking only at the fire this candle’s making. As a sunflower seeks for sun, a midge will fly toward a cold light of a led lamp. Plenty of creatures search for the light. Me either.

I’ve never been a fan of a kosher food. But when maid in my house appeared, I became a bit spoiled.

- Good morning, maid! How did you sleep?

- Wonderful sir! Today morning we have sandwiches with peanut butter and coconut jam.

I met this maid in vegan public, when I was offering a job with a flexible schedule. She agreed to stay at my place for a long-term period (in other words, forever). Somebody will ask me: «How could this be possible?» Listen, I have to say, maybe I am an excellent judge of character.

From this maid I wanted only one thing - I must never cook. And she was joyfully saving my life. Sure, there were some nuances: I didn’t eat meat, didn’t drink milk and had some thoughts about refusing of sugar. This suited her quite well, so she quickly joined my game.

One day I spoke her a word about my great-uncle. Story about him made her upset, and I poured our glasses with wine «Chateau Latouer» 1966. I decided not to mind my business for today and took a glance to a garden. After, I put on my brocade robe and stepped my feet into a warm water, turned on Alexander Vertinsky's record and plunged into the demonic nature of music, feeling the heat on my skin from the sun which was entering into the room.

I was happy.

Contact-Manager #14

I like some of women, who leave their hair drying alone during the morning. Those women escape from subway with wet, a little gathered by adhesion effect hair, like if they suddenly got caught in the rain. So mind-opened, so natural. Those women attract me the most.

I bought myself a cherry filter cigarettes. Reality delicately took my body into the walls of a rented studio, which took almost a third of my salary. I smoked and watched the kids playing ball. Four birds were flying, and the sun was shining.

It was so beautiful outside like if I was deceived.

I shook off the ashes down from the 12 th floor, next I entered my bathroom, and dropped a cigarette butt into the toilet water, lathered up my hands and depicted fatigue face in the reflection. I wrote some words of love on the mirror with my soaped finger. Then somebody knocked the door. I wiped off the mirror and opened the door.

There was a guy standing:

- Do you have some money, sir?

- What for? - I asked.

- Food.

- And for beer?

- Yes, and some for a beer.

- And why do you need beer?

- I’m trembling.

- I’ll not give you money, because you’ll spend them for beer only.

- But I’m trembling, I sleep on the streets.

I inhaled, gave him 5 dollars and closed the door; then I sat down and remembered wet hair of a woman in the subway. While I was remembering, I came to a conclusion that this wet hair was gorgeous. And that I also need a one more cigarette. I want the rain to be everywhere, all over this country. There is no hypocrisy in rain. Whereas sun light looks like deceive. The door was knocked again, I opened it.

There was another guy standing:

- The most profitable offer you could get, - he gave me brochure, - use our company internet service and pay two time less, having maximum data transfer rate.

- Thanks, I’ll consider this special offer.

- That’s very profitable.

- Great.

I closed the door and sat down at the table, thinking about profitable offer.

Ex-girlfriends

I'm in love with women. And when it's mutual, I can even get some gifts from them. I like gifts. Who doesn't? But sometimes, I think I don't deserve it. Also, I was always confused about the girls who didn't know the reason why they chose exactly me. Walking by the street or sitting on a bench, I asked her a question:

- Why do you love me?

- I don't know.

You know, it's okay when person strives to achieve the sense of absolute, unreasonable love. And someone who's capable of such love, can be called worthy. Nevertheless, I wasn't satisfied with such business.

Why can't I just enjoy gifts without remorse? Why can't I be satisfied with the thing that someone's in love with me no matter of money, hype, real estate, opportunities, but just like that - because I exist?

The reason is - I've always been nobody. Just a normal guy.

No merit, special advantages, solid character, interesting history. Now I asked myself:

- What reason I have to be loved to?

Turned out, there was nothing I had.

All kind of relationships end. I'm ready for that. But I can't start the new one in which I would be loved only for fun. I want to make myself worthy of being loved. And I won't accept any other option.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. Delicate proposal to reduce the prices for the most essential products in supermarket chain named «Victoria», 20th of November, 2016.

Contact-Manager #15

This place wasn’t on the map, an empty territory. And just when I got there, I recognized it as a military unit. Four observation towers at the corners, duty officers were replacing every four hours. To enter this army territory, I waited until nightfall, sitting inside the nearest forest.

Around midnight I noticed some suitable place where I can climb over the razor wire. I checked geoposition of the record again and set the airplane mode on the phone.

- Hey, - somebody said behind me.

I turned around and saw an equipped guy with a painted face. He introduced himself as a Cowboy and gave me a folder, he said that everything I was interested in was inside the folder. There I found «Semi-harakiri (a little bit)» record.

Semi-harakiri (a little bit)

The worn-out marks on the door seemed almost ancient. The last layer of paint was fading on the walls, exposing all the other colors used by the painters since the building was built. Now, it's my turn:

- Mister chairman... - I said.

- Put your feet on the marks.

The man in military uniform took a dictaphone out of his pocket. He looked around at everyone were sitting and asked:

- Wanna serve your homeland?

- No.

There was a collective sigh in the hall. Before any objections, I pointed my finger at the portraits behind them:

- To serve... Them? Pay attention to these portraits. The security forces, the military complex, and also my freedom belong to them. Murder-for-hire, women slaughtering; cities unsuitable for the one who disabled, carsharing from three years of driving experience... I do not wish to serve the executioners of

morality and peace. And you can’t offer any other opportunity. So here's what...

I took out a long samurai katana from my jacket. There was no fear. I sat down on my knees.

- Stop him!

It was too late. My paternal great-uncle always said: «If started, have to be finished». In front of my eyes he stayed, invisible to others, frying potatoes in the kitchen.

- You're wrong this time, great-uncle, - I snapped.

I put the katana on mister chairman's desk and said it was a prank. Stunned old men and women snuggled fearfully against the walls as I calmly escaped the building. It's been a really bad day.

Contact-Manager #16

I was already at my apartment reading stuff inside the folder which Cowboy gave me. The phone rang, it was that beautiful girl:

- Hi, - she said.

- Miss me?

- Will you come by one of these days?

That’s all. I left the folder wait for better time.

There were man and woman walking down the subway, I saw them from the

wagon window. The train was going to depart and that moment woman released his hand and rapidly ran, then jumped into the wagon. She left him so smoothly. Because of train?

That would break my heart. But man seemed like he didn’t care.

I arrived to beautiful girl’s apartment. Brought some snacks and drinks. We ate, drank and laid down.

- I think, anyone could be in my place and you could caress her the same way.

- You are right, - I answered.

- But it’s me who in front of you.

- Yes.

- I love you.

- Save these words for mommy and pop.

When I woke up, I went to a balcony to get my dry underpants, which she had washed. The rain passed this night. I lit a cigarette and laid to a bed next to her, enjoying low temperature and silence after the rain. Kids don’t go out for a walk after rain, for them it’s like leprosy. Complete silence and peace, and everything, except for the rare cars, was silent.

Richard Gere

Another duty. I'm in the army. And I'm thinking about revenge. The thing is, I know a couple of Fat's secrets and I can get him busted.

Fat was drafted into this military base 20 years ago and signed a contract. Since then, the reality of life has been rapidly slipping away from him. Single, 40 years without marriage. He shares an apartment with his father and parks his bike

in a soldier's smoking room. The only joy in this situation is to humiliate a soldier like me or to drink during the service.

Frankly speaking, Fat was a scumbag and nonsense. I tried to see a rational grain in him, which sometimes worked out, and I thought maybe if I’ll show respect to the guy, he would respond in kind...

But I didn't guess the recipe. What worked with others didn't work with him. Time after time, he behaved rudely and didn’t think to stop. Maybe, he became the embodiment of the idea of the army's higher powers. And the nature of his behavior was easier to accept than to fight with.

«Well...» I thought. I have 80 days left, almost demobilized. So? I'll be patient, try my best. But something cold was accumulating in me after our conflicts with Fat: forgot to put your sign in the magazine? - Run. Folded your uniform not accurately enough? - Do push-ups. Don't you know some shit military article by heart? - Write it 10 times.

Of course, I didn't want to deal with such things. However, I stopped getting mad at him and throwing out my remaining pearls. I just followed his demands and orders, thinking about my strong response move, like in a chess game.

Fat considered himself as a gambler, and, obviously, even a good one. No one respected him, but everyone obeyed - for me it was an attractive basis for great revolution.

The plan was extremely simple, I am writing the following letter:

«To Comrade Brigade Commander! Urgently! In room №106, a secret room was found behind a wooden wall, where non-standard equipment stands, as well as alcoholic beverages... ANONYMOUSLY».

Everything was done professionally: the letter is made up of cut-out printed letters without using any handwriting and local printer. The work was done with

gloves, no «fingers». Folded letter remained to be thrown into the letterbox of «complaints and suggestions» in a corridor where were no video surveillance camera.

Of course, I had several of doubts. But why Fat is shitting in my tray, and I have to suffer? Why is this 40-year-old virgin gay teaching me things without waiting for my strong response? I decided to go to the military headquarters to put the letter in the letterbox.

On the way to the headquarters, I met Richard Gere:

- Wait, son, - he held out his hand to me.

- What the hell?

- I'm your great-uncle.

- Don't you dare say...

- Leave the revenge. Forget about it.

- Great-uncle... - I looked him straight to his eyes, - is it really you?

- I'm the one who’s asking questions here.

- But why...

- Listen to me, a real warrior doesn't need a sword. He said that and disappeared.

What was that? A mirage?

- Calm down, - I said to myself, - something’s wrong here. My great-uncle is dead, but if spirits exist, then maybe he appeared to me. Then what does Richard Gere

mean? Perhaps it's just a spiritual formality...

My hands were shaking, I took the letter out of my pocket. I remembered all the bad things that Fat had done to me, all the insults… And asked myself:

- Is it possible to extinguish a fire with even more fire? - I thought.

Impressed by the mirage I saw, I mentally thanked my great-uncle and turned around. When I came back to the military base, I burned the letter and looked at the sun while it was setting over the water. I'll be home soon.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. A record found on the territory of an abandoned secret military base on the Baltic Sea coast, while amber excavation works in 2018.

Contact-Manager #17

One day I had to go to the army, it became clear that soldiers were divided into two types: orderly men and duty officers. Orderly men were engaged in cleaning. And the duty officers were in charge of commanding them. It was obvious to me of who I wanted to be.

I became the duty officer, but after a few shifts I was ready to change my mind. All the higher- ranking officers always doubted my qualities and they did not hesitate to show me how doubtful they were. For a while, these doubts were the cause of my poor mood, but a bit later it didn’t bother me at all - a matter of habit. The army was vain, stupidly vain. Many soldiers imagined themselves to be more important than they really were - just a toilet cleaners. While position of duty officer was considered prestigious.

We called him «The General». The General studied all the rules, never itched himself while standing on a post, believed in his fatherland, knew the whole truth about chevrons, ranks, the degree of inclination of the palm during a military greeting. He knew about each thing which common sense ignored. So, which is better: to keep the toilet clean or to suffer moral humiliation - everyone decided

for himself or it was decided for him. The General has already. been decided. The best sons of the fatherland always kept the toilets cleaned.

I was serving on a big military ship. The toilets were not connected to sewage system, so if you were going to take a shit, you have to shit first, then flush the toilet and after all you should take a water hose to pour some water on a floor until everything you’ve shat would be floated to the drain hole. One day, the drain hole became clogged. Our WC turned into a cyanide pool full of shit and urine. The officer ordered me to fix the situation. So, if someday I was wondering to find out the smell of a summer military toilet with a clogged drain, I found myself the right place at the right time, this luxury had no analogues. Of course, I didn't want to fix this problem. And also, it wasn’t possible to refuse the order. In case of disobeying the order, WC would have become my home for the rest of my service. I didn’t argue with the fate and realized that maybe I should find some of my comrades to help this situation to be solved. However, I did not find anyone of them.

In the army, this «civilized society» turns into dust. Things which seemed normal before are becoming shockingly evil here. A man has appropriated the right to choose: who deserves to live and who to burn as a barbecue. Grilled chicken costs 5 euros, 4 euros you pay for the death of an animal that was born to die. Meaning of its life is just a physical existence, which someone will soon end and swallow, later defecate into the toilet.

I listened to music after work while was immersed into these memories about The General. The phone rang.

- Yes?

- Hello. There is a cell named «Q7» reserved for your name, you can pick up your package every day from 10:00 to 19:00

- Who left this... The package?

- Sorry, confidential info. We also kindly ask you to have an identity document with you.

I got up and went to the address with my passport. There was a record named «Bar» in the «Q7» cell.

Pub

The third glass of the same velvet beer. I took a crackers with red caviar flavor. I eat, watch TV and can't stop thinking. A man full of wrinkles came into the pub, so he was rather grandfather. He looked at me:

- Son, what the hell are you doing here?

I slowly sipped a glass of velvet beer.

- Drinking,- I said.

This grandpa furiously jumped up to the bartender:

- Do you think this is okay? - He was pointing his finger in my direction.

There was an absolute silence. Anyone could try to hear his own heartbeat. But no one tried, and the TV interrupted all the drama.

- He beat me in arm wrestling... - The bartender replied guiltily.

Grandfather slowly turned to me, his face changed and now seemed calm:

- Is it true? Son, what are you drinking?

I pointed to my glass.

- The same for me, - he nodded to the bartender, - and snacks.

There was a rain outside. I wanted to pee. When I came back from the bathroom, I saw that this grandpa was already sitting at my table. He asked:

- What’s your age?

- Eight.

- You're a solid dude.

- Seems like.

That's how we met. It was my great-uncle. Since then, he taught me everything he knew, until one day, frying potatoes in the kitchen, he met his death.

During the «Handballand» incident, school teachers and the regional employment commission (I don’t know why) declared war on me. I was severely times beaten by high school students: they gathered in crowds and made me cry. The fate of Columbus awaited me, as a true discoverer. I have opened the gates of a New World! Handballand… What a wonderful land, untouched by the oil finger of industrialism. However, no one shared my joy.

As usual, I came home a little beaten. Looking into my eyes, my great-uncle was silent for a long time. Blood was flowing from above my eye, and I didn't make a sound. Finally, my great- uncle broke the silence with a sharp running towards the attic, where he took a gun, which he immediately pointed at me.

Holding my mother's gift at gunpoint, he said softly:

- You look like a jerk.

And he took the gun back into the attic.

He died on my birthday. The doctors arrived without finding out the cause of his

death. Because, as they said, they were late for a corporate party. Not very ethical of them, but the days of Hippocrates are gone. I took out the whiskey and poured some water in it. I drank to the new era. I thought about it a bit. And began to cry.

Contact-Manager #18

New coordinates were displayed in the pager. I looked at the map, this time they were directing to the territory of Great Britain. Well, I had a vacation to take so I took it and went for Arthur Poghosyan searching. This mystery. Who was he to me? At the airport, I put my bag in a plastic container and threw in the rest of the metal things, including belt, keys, etc.

- Please, straighten the container across the conveyor, - fat girl said timidly.

I sighed and straightened it. Then went to a scanner. A skinny girl was standing on it.

- Hands up, please, - she said.

- Will you arrest me?

After that, I was taken to some secret room. Right in front of me there were two man sitting and looking at me like cannibals:

- Honey, we can open your ass as wide as we want to, - one of them said.

I told them I was joking and I won't do it again:

- I’m sorry I was just joking, it won't happen again.

- NEXT TIME OUR JOKE WILL REACH YOUR ASS, - one of them said.

I went out a secret room and met the skinny girl at the scanner again.

- Hands up, please, - she repeated triumphantly.

The height was 11 900 meters above the solid surface of the planet Earth. From the window of an airplane, you can see less beautiful scenery than from a train. I was staring at the clouds. There were a lot of them, the further I looked, the more I saw. I couldn't believe there were so many of them. A man came up to the bathroom, he was met by two stewardesses:

- Can I help you? - the first stewardess asked.

- Can I go to the bathroom? - this man asked.

- Undesirable, - the second stewardess answered.

- Now we are in the middle of a turbulence zone, - the first stewardess confirmed.

- But I need to go to the bathroom, - the man repeated.

- You can't, - said the first stewardess.

- Put on the mask, please, - the second stewardess added.

He put his mask on and left.

The whole flight lasted for a while. The plane landed at Heathrow at 12:05 local time. I've been poking around. Then I found a place that coordinates were leading to. I planned to rent a room near the location of the new record. I was in London. Arthur Poghosyan was close, I felt it. It's time to check in into my room. A 30-year-old girl was sitting at the hotel reception. And I haven't had sex for a long time:

- Could you tell me please, here's the thing, I want to rent a room...

- And what should I tell you? - she smiled.

- Well, I want to rent a room.

- Only the double beds are left. Are you alone? - she asked.

- Depends on you.

- Sorry?

- I’m alone, - I answered.

She gave me a key and a ticket for free dinner. I went up to the second floor where my room was. The TV was loud in the room next to mine. I opened my door. There was no one in the room. Two beds, a closet, two bottles of free water with tags on which was written – «A compliment from the hotel!». I laughed. My mood lifted. I turned on the lights, floor lamps, other lamps, everything I could. Everything was on fire.

- You'll work hard today, - I announced to the lamps.

I wanted to eat. So, I left my room to spend a ticket for my free dinner. I went downstairs to a hotel restaurant.

- Do you have anything without meat, fish and eggs? - I asked.

- There is no such thing, - said the guy, he was at my age.

- Hm... Do all your dishes include eggs? And meat?

- Yes. What about the eggs? Don’t you eat them at all?

- At all.

He stood still. We both looked at the bar counter.

- And a cheese? - he guessed.

- I think it’s alright.

- Porridge?

- Yes.

- Sir, we'll figure something out.

- Bring it to my room, - I said.

He was thinking for a while.

- We don't bring that in, - he said.

- That? - I asked again.

There was a woman sitting in the restaurant. Alone. She asked for heated milk. She was good. She's sitting here alone. I sat down too. Waiting for my porridge. They don't bring THAT into the room? Okay. For ten minutes I knocked on the table's black wood. The surveillance camera was filming everything. And how I was knocking also. I finally received a bag of food and went to my room. It's time to figure out what's next. But it could wait for tomorrow, now the new record and a space under the blanket were waiting for me.

Battersea Heliport

One of the reasons for my visits to England is teaching. Three years ago, the British establishment expressed its appreciation for my contribution to social culture and aesthetics and offered to participate in the «Total Supply Summit»

conference, where I will give a lecture to the best students in the UK.

The conference thundered all over the world, I got on the cover of «Time», so I became a frequent guest of Oxford University. Sleepless nights in luxury five-star hotels were sometimes tiring. Eventually, I moved to England.

One of the pluses being an emigrant is possibility to refuse the services of «Aeroflot» company. This is a good airline, however, for a comfortable flight it is worth booking a business class spot. Right now, to get to the academic auditorium, I just need to call a taxi and drive fifty-six miles through the Chiltern Hills. Actually, the fact that there was some meaning in my life again, made me change my mind about dying young. «I'm 23 and I need a personal driver» - I thought. That's how Henry and I met, over breakfast at the «Hide» restaurant. I was eating beetroot sherbet on an ice cube, and Henry ordered tea for himself.

«Here he is, an Englishman to the core» - I thought.

I received a message in «Direct». It was marked as important one, which means it deserved immediate attention. The text of the message made me wince. I looked up to Henry:

- Henry, have you finished your tea?

- Almost, sir.

- I have to give a lecture in an hour.

- Sir, it's an hour and a half to campus... However, I have a plan, - Henry said.

Without paying, we left the restaurant like a bullet. It was about half an hour from Mayfair to Battersea Heliport. During this time, I managed to write a short synopsis of the 4-hour lecture and text Chichvarkin that I would pay the cost of

breakfast plus moral damage.

- You owe me a bottle of «Louis Roedererbrut premier», - Chichvarkin wrote.

- Deal.

Battersea turned out to be empty. The guy said that there are no pilots on the site at the moment.

- Where the hell are they? - I asked.

- I'll take the helm, - Henry said calmly.

The guy said it was impossible. I told him to go to hell and climbed into the fuselage of the helicopter.

We made it in time.

Contact-Manager #19

At this moment, I am playing BIG. England was easy to be there. I took a walk to Highgate Cemetery, where George Michael found his peace. The man who knew how to love. I came for Arthur Poghosyan’s new record. In this envelope was perfume also, as I found out later, from «Nasomatto» fashion house.

Life with no place for past

I was coming out of my new London apartments. Sunrise was just breaking through, making me feel a bit nostalgic about parents' house in Chernivtsi.

- Good morning, sir.

- Morning, Henry.

That's how my day begins. Opened car door welcomes me into a warm-red leather cabin. I've never liked alcantara, but to be fair, it gains more hope when made in vinous (dark red) color.

«Caretaker» is playing, while I’m glancing down the city, hoping to catch my past - its fragrant, attire, the manner of its movement. Sometimes, I get obsessed on my past and can't get rid of it. Like Jesse Pinkman, I'm calling to my already dead girlfriend, again and again dialing her number just to hear her voice on autoresponder. And all I have is to wait until instead of her voice I'll hear the operator's gray monotone speech, who'll explain me: «This number no longer exists». Strange thing. Separated numbers mean nothing to me, but their specific order builds a lighthouse which is piercing through the hazy memories.

Reflection is a part of my life. It was always with me like the moon in the night. Most of all this reflection reveals itself when I disappoint someone I care about. I could devour myself up for years after every mistake I made. However, since I became a businessman, I look at the world through business. And the main question of business: «Does this make me more resourceful?» And I asked myself:

- What's the benefit from reflection?

I lived and suffered, accumulating feeling of guilt for my previous acts which I was already forgiven for or will never be. Why should I focus on things, which only cause me pain and loss? After I've got my PhD in metaphysics, I had an insight: thoughts contain energy. By focusing energy into reflection, I invest only in Salinger's bottomless pit with his rubbish rye.

I asked Henry to stop the car when spotted the cafeteria. I got in it. There was such a light inside the bathroom when your own face looks like someone else's. A song was playing:

«Two eternities converged into one short day...»

I washed my hands, looked in the mirror and went outside. The best words about life are the simplest. That's how it sounds:

- This is life.

And life is a cruel thing. Streets that have sheltered me, will not become a home for my past, which tired ghost-ship will remain in the gloomy waters of previous time. After all, I'm driving on a hard pavement now. And all I have left... is only the Great Now.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. Free tete-a-tete with the author of the «Guinness Book of Records» as an instant coffee promotion, Southeastern USA, October 27, 2019.

Contact-Manager #20

The British people are known as a European Japanese. But most of them are also living in the past. Because nothing bad can happen in their past. While there is the darkness of inevitability in their present. Each new second of time, British people approach the infinity of non-existence. They are moving away from those days, near the campfire with friends, when they fried bread and accidentally dropped slices of meat to the ground. The pager was vibrating in my pocket. I came out of the smoking room in St. James's Street and heard the name of a private detective, - John Steaps, - the best in London.

And I thought about using his service.

Butterflies

Autumn. The end of another day shift. Sky doesn't look like turbid white film yet. Seemed like somebody brought a bouquet of sunset rays and strewed it as a pinch of a pink cotton through this blue azure. The faience of uncut hair softly met the honey-colored downfall of a dead leaves, while cold air gave me a permission to feel like a north-polar pathfinder. I was waiting the car as long as the second album of «Clem Leek» was doing his melancholic playback, and suddenly remembered how my great-uncle taught me to shoot a rifle.

- Son. Do you exactly aware of how does it work?

- Yes, great-uncle.

- Okay. It simply does matter to choose the right trajectory. Now, squeeze the rifle handle.

Great-uncle threw a wood-log into the sky. I aimed my rifle upward the wood-log and pulled the trigger. Turned out, I failed.

- Son. Do you consider yourself as a patriot?

- Yes, great-uncle.

- Save yourself for the country. There will be no excuse for the second attempt.

Phantasmagoria of the vague message sounded menacingly to a child. My hands became fully focused. Scared eye-apples expanded in a desire to catch a few significant details, which were unseen before. Great-uncle made a second cast. Eventually, I did it.

- Alright, son. Why didn't you hit the target for the first time?

- I can't tell, great-uncle.

- Mark my words, son. Your ignorance will never justify you to anyone.

When I've heard it, I got its total meaning straight.

The whole life I was surrounded by different forms of life. But the only one I was afraid of - butterflies.

In such absolutely way they merge with autumn foliage, so neither lizard, or bird, or spider could detect them not until my lunch, either next Thanksgiving Day.

That's the way they save their lives. But there are also those who make it in opposite way. Some of butterflies use their obsessive visibility. In a lazy way, they are flying around, dressed in their epileptic outfit, however, nobody will take a look at them. Why? Only because they are scum.

Car has arrived to a parking lot. With such a relief, I got into the cabin. All I wanted was silence. Suddenly, I asked:

- Henry, are you a patriot?

- Patriotism contradicts with society's unity.

- And what about butterflies?

- Tolerably, sir.

As by air cannon, leaves have been strewing by the motion of wheels. Sunset was about to fade, leaving the darkness itself as an extinguished wick in a lonely room. I was thinking about great-uncle and butterflies. It might be rain today.

Contact-Manager #21

12 sterling pounds for some vegetables and juice. If I knew food prices, I wouldn't have landed on Earth. Entering the alley, I saw a homeless man. He sipped from a bottle in the bag. I gave him five pounds for another bottle and asked:

- Man, where can I find John Steaps?

- Don't give yourself to the crowd.

He stank. An old sulfur gathered on his ears, awful sight.

- Man, I need John Steaps. How can I meet him?

- If you're angry, you've given yourself to the crowd.

I grabbed my five pounds back and was going to leave.

- Listen, - he said, - give me this paper back.

- Then treat your daddy.

He told me the address, and I returned his five pounds back.

I came to the address. His office was below the first floor. I knocked and opened it by myself:

- Private detective John Steaps? - I asked.

- What’s the question?

- I need to find a man.

- It costs money.

- I have it.

He looked at me. There was nothing on the walls of the office, not even a clock.

- I doubt it, - said John Steaps and then asked, - are you gay?

- I was married, sir.

- And then? Found yourself a boyfriend?

There were piles of paper on his desk and a TV with an old cassette video player.

- I was told you're the best detective in London.

- And they didn't tell you're a shit-eater?

- How much do you want?

He opened a drawer and took out a pencil, tore off the sticker and began to write, then stretched out his hand to me:

- Come here, - he held a sticker in his hand, - here.

I took it and read it:

- It says 9 billion sterling pounds here, - I said.

- You said you have money.

- This is crazy money!

- Come back when you’ll have enough. There is an exit door, shit-eater.

In silence, I went to the exit door. I came to the hotel and forgot about everything until tomorrow. Next time I'll nail the bastard…

Tinder

After divorcing with my wife, I downloaded «Tinder» and decided to use it. Turned out that I didn't understand gender issues at all.

By selecting «bisexual» in profile settings, I started searching for a future partner. When I met a male man in proposed variants, I was a little upset. Am I being forced into same-sex marriage by «Tinder»? I fell into a little depression and closed the app, while sharing this story at the nearest Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. I was told there, that bisexuality means relationships with

both men and women, so I decided to try again, changing my profile orientation to «straight».

I live alone, I know several languages, I want children someday, I constantly drink and quitting smoking. What do I want? To find love. Do I have a chance?

Hm...

Up to a certain stage of my life, I earned money by music and writing. I remember my first dollar. Still the first and the last dollar in my remembrance... I had a chaotic lifestyle, rushing in search of knowledge about the true nature of human feelings and the meaning of life. As soon as I found them, I immediately lost them, and started over again. Well, many girlfriends wanted to die with a guy like me, but not to live with me. Fresh girls are attracted to guys who are mysterious and creative, but smart women know that they will get nothing with such garbage. I went from being a musician and writer to a drug dealer. Drugs are a quick way to make money. And dangerous, so finally I went into a legal business and soon bought myself a house, assets, and a little later some luxury goods.

«He is legend» - I hear from Yohji Yamamoto, «What a handsome guy! Besides, he's rich!» - a typical comment from showbiz stars under my «Instagram» photo. Now my profile can’t help but attract millions of women around the world. I made a splash, a SENSATION, an effect comparable to a volcanic eruption. But unfortunately for millions of women, I need the love of only one.

I need safety! So she, this woman, could not devour me. For her to protect my creative, gentle and flexible like kinetic sand nature. I'm not interested in tits, asses, skills in bed... No. The first thing I do is look into her eyes. If they have a simple, sincere depth, pleasant awareness and love for all things, then I swipe to the right and wait for sympathy in return. Good for me, I don't have to wait long (because of my beauty). However, something special was waiting for me this time.

Her name was Dagny. Looking at her for the first time, I realized that there is neither disharmony nor imperfection: everything is complete, whole and perfect. Intuitively recalling Taoist practices from my previous lives, I activated the dragon's breath, but I could not calm the escalating pulse. It's hard to believe that this is real. It's like I'll blink, and this play of light and shadows will immediately disappear, leaving me a fool. Among the falsity, pretensions and endless show-offs, I found a light, clean and warm. I wrote to her knowing that I was playing out of rank. But she answered softly. Our communication was a real tenderness.

I called Henry and described the full range of feelings I was experiencing, he was brief in his English fashion:

- You are in love, sir.

Realizing that all my ambitions and desires were embodied in Dagny, I said: - Henry, we're going after her.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. A description of the transcendental experience gained as a result of a 4- hour session in «Tinder» app and a conflict with a telephone operator, London. October 10, 2020.

Contact-Manager #22

I spent the next few days at the hotel listening to Jeff Buckley music and reading information about corrugated cardboard industry. Like any other, corrugation industry included many nuances. My pager rang, and with no joy, I went to grab the next record. England began to exhaust me, energy was running out as well as mood and money. I opened «Tinder» and contacted a pretty English girl.

She invited me to her place. I had a bottle of Scotch, cigarettes and two bottles of beer with me.

She met me at the door of her apartment, I kindly asked to visit her bathroom

and came back.

- There's no light in bathroom, - I said.

- Lamp burned out.

We were drinking and having a good time.

She had an ass the size that should be taxed.

In the morning I couldn't get up, I couldn't lie down either, and I couldn't sit. I tried to walk, but it didn't work.

- How are you? - I asked.

She was lying down:

- I feel bad.

- Do you have an absorbent?

- Look for the medicine kit, - she said.

There was only hydrogen peroxide and a bandage in her medicine kit. I felt uneasy, I ran to the toilet, there was no light. I bent over the toilet and spent some time in such position. I brought her a basin so that she would have a good opportunity in case of vomiting. Then I went to the kitchen to pour some water, but there was no water left.

- I'm going to get some water, - I said.

- You can't do it.

- Do you want to make it by yourself?

She mumbled something.

I took the elevator down. Went to the store. Got water, absorbent and a light bulb for her bathroom. I was paying my goods through contactless-cashterminal, while two people security guard and a cashier came up, they were yelling:

- GOOD MORNING, DO YOU NEED HELP?

Legs, arms, nails, my hair - everything was shaking. I said I needed help.

- What can we help you with? - they smiled.

- I have a covid.

And they disappeared.

On the way back to her apartment, I went inside the elevator and imagined how I would die in it if the door wouldn’t open. Then I got to her floor. I went into the apartment, mixed a glass of water with absorbent and gave her a drink.

How poor I am, even single malt whisky doesn't let me relax. Also women, also taxes, also insects don’t let me relax. I went to the bathroom and sat there for a while.

- Are you sitting in the dark? - she asked.

- I'm meditating.

- I have to pee, - she said.

- So come in.

- So come out.

- I'm not going anywhere, - I said.

- Alright, I want not only to pee.

- Then why are you here?

I was sitting with my back against the washing machine, she thought for a while, then took off her panties and sat herself on the toilet.

She did it. And she did it completely right. While I wasn’t able to urinate from the moment I woke up, everything I drank was immediately vomited, I was afraid of dehydration. She pushed herself again and again, I heard splashes of water, many of them. Not a morning, but a fairy tale. She flushed the toilet and was doing something there.

Later she gave me a glass with water and an absorbent:

- I haven't seen somebody vomiting that much, let's call an AMBULANCE.

I asked her to call an ambulance and fell asleep. The doctors arrived, but it was already late, I was sleeping sweetly.

- Get out, - I said to the doctors.

- You got to pay a fine for this fake arrival.

I took money out of my pocket and gave it to the nurse, so she would leave this apartment a little happier than she was.

Dagny

I said goodbye to Henry and went upstairs to my room. The door was unlocked. I got my shoes off and hung up my coat. There were Dagny's slippers and a light cloak in a hallway. The light was reflecting in the water, which slowly flowed

down the floor. I heard a sound of a shower in a bathroom, and opened the door.

- You? - she asked.

I got myself a little bucket and a towel to dry water from the floor. Dagny was in a shower cabin. Maybe, it was leaking due to cabin's drainage was broken. She revealed her hand from a slightly opened cabin.

- Take me a towel, there, - she was clarifying towel's direction by her index finger.

I brought her a wide white towel.

- And a carpet from drying room, - she said.

I brought her dry, warm carpet for feet and put it down.

Covered in wide white towel, she stepped on a warm carpet. Then she took off her shower hat and gave it to me, I just left this hat in a sink. I've never used this hat-thing, but maybe, looking at Dagny's dry hair after shower, I thought I could give it a shot later. She crossed her arms on my neck. I held her by the waist.

- Hello, - she said in a good smile.

- What a tender mood?

- Dry me off.

In a gently way I patted her back by towel, blotting the water on her body. I sensed my fingers on her tender skin, so different than mine.

- That's not serious, - she said, - make it.

She approached closer and fully leant on me. I unzipped her towel and began to

rubbing her over the neck, shoulders, shoulder blades, back and finally reached her hips, got a little confused. She stood and hugged me.

- Let me bring myself down, - I asked.

She set free my neck so I sat down on my knee, wiping her body under her back, legs. After this I got up and buttoned the towel at her chest level. What a beautiful body Dagny has. She wiped her face from water and the rest of her. Then she pulled my sweater off.

- The rest is on you, - she said and fled to the room.

I looked at the shower-hat which was left in the sink. Seems useful. I have to try it once at least. Dagny has her very class. The sexiest person I've ever met. She was perfect. Also, her eyes, that stare. She probably had a lot of men, but now she has me. Entrust her body to me.

- I'll be there in moment, - I lied.

I turned on the water to mute my sounds and escaped through the door. I wanted to run and I ran. Spring rain was dropping. Every rain ends. I got a call. I didn't hang up. The phone was continuing to ring, rain continued to drop. Okay...

- Yes?

- Where are you? - she asked.

- At the park.

- I want you to lie next to me.

I was in the process of thinking. Dagny was silent, while breathing her heat from lungs to phone.

- Okay, - I answered, - 5 minutes. And I went back.

Contact-Manager #23

I was in my hotel room listening to Jeff Buckley. I’m at the dead point. Vacation ends. I'm too young. Besides, the best detective in London refuses to help. Anyway, I still had a little piece of time.

Meeting

She never warns about her arrival in advance, but I greet my dear sadness like a son from the army, with warmth. There are not so many emotions, only seven. And joy is the only one whichis «positive» among them. Each of emotions is significant and the older I become, the less often they pay me a visit.

I was reading «Perfume: The Story of a Murderer» when was distracted by a knock on the door. Someone's palm was overshadowing the peephole. Without taking off her shoes, Dagny walked over and wrapped herself in a blanket on my pull-out sofa. Half of the young scotch bottle we didn't finish last time was left on the shelf. I poured, put her glass on the table and came close to the tall dieffenbachia in a shade. After a few sips in one gulp, Dagny threw her glass in my direction, a hail of fragments of this glass shook the leaves of a big houseplant.

- More, - she said.

I didn’t pay the expected attention.

There was a little snowfall, some demonstrations could be seen through the window. The reason is clear from the newspaper: people were forbidden to

gather on Christmas. I was amused by a fat man in the crowd with a poster: «I want love XXX». With no turning around from the window sight, I asked her:

- What’s your meaning of life?

- I have several, - she said, - why don't you drink?

- Saving up my testosterone.

- Why?

- For sexuality, - I replied and turned my attention to the snow which was melting from her shoes to the floor. I felt uneasy a bit, put on my coat and shoes.

- Where are you going? - Dagny asked.

- Will try to find someone prettier.

She stared at me like on a dead.

- You haven’t changed, - she said.

- Same as you.

I wanted to take a closer look to a fat man, heading towards the demonstrations. He stayed on the same place he has been before.

- What’s the point of your banner?

A fat man put the banner as close to me as he could like if it was a solution for all questions I had, but still I got one left unanswered.

- Why «XXX»? - I asked.

- Like sex, - fat man said.

He’s the devil. I rented myself a room and spent this night at the hotel, trying to remember the name of the cemetery where Vertinsky was buried and the words he sang according to Annensky's poems.

«Not because she is my light, but because if she’s with me, there is no need in light at all...»

No woman deserves such a compliment, not even her. Devil words. In the morning I went back to my apartment and opened the door.

- Are you here?

Dagny wasn’t at home anymore. There was only a note with a short apology on the table. Melted snow and a hail of glass were removed. Except for a couple glass fragments her eye couldn’t see.

- My little Blind, - I thought, removed the rest fragments of glass and continued to read my «Perfume: The Story of a Murderer».

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. Epitaph to the occasion of auditory catharsis when listening to Bach's «Well-tempered Clavier» on a budget vinyl player, London, UK, December 20, 2020.

Contact-Manager #24

I was standing on the platform with a ticket to Sherwood Forest. When I got inside the train, I took out a bottle of perfume I found under the tombstone of Highgate Cemetery, which was inside the envelope with the record. I remember this cemetery and the first experience when I used this perfume there, how it splashed, a light puff, it smelled of melon, a cold fruity smell swept through the cemetery. Remembering this, I sprayed it on my wrist.

My departure is sudden. I wouldn't have dared to do it any other way. I was the only person in the compartment. There were two beds at the top, and places for assholes at the bottom. I wonder who's going to take this ride with me?

The train began to move, still there was no one inside but me. Later I got a knock on the door.

- It’s opened.

- Afternoon, - the girl said.

- Afternoon, - I answered.

It was a staff member, she told me where the toilet was and something about the advantages that I get from using their company. I liked her voice. I wasn’t able to catch her smell, the melon on my wrist plunged the compartment into a cold fruit stupor. This girl was young, younger than me. And she must have felt my perfume. I haven't had anyone for a long time.

- With me, - I interrupted her monologue about company benefits.

- What? - she asked.

- Just have given you some information on how you can spend this night.

- Sorry, I didn’t understand… - she began to get indignant.

- So grow up and you will, - I sighed.

We looked at each other. I felt warm all over my body and probably turned rosy.

- At midnight, - she said softly, - don't lock the door.

- No, I’ll take a rest, - I replied seriously.

- I don't understand, are you crazy? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?

She turned around and was going to blow up my door.

- WHAT? - she asked.

- Wake me up half an hour before arrival. She blew up the door.

Now, I have to find the toilet. I tried to open the blown-up door. It has opened. «I shouldn't have done that…» - I thought to myself. Should I find her? Eventually I found the toilet and went to the bed. I slept before I was woken up. It wasn’t her who woke me up. Something was knocking and rumbling. I switched on the light. Took a glance at my empty compartment, «alone, still». A screw has withdrawn from the plate which was covering the battery. The screw thread was ripped, so it can’t be twisted back in. I tore off a napkin and put it under the plate so it couldn’t bother me rumbling. Then I brought myself back inside the blanket and fell asleep.

I got up on the alarm clock in the morning. I brushed my teeth. The beauty came to wake me up.

- Oh, you're already up...

- Yeah.

From the very early morning people usually don’t have any emotional powder for detonation. Neither she nor I had. In the morning, people are the way I always want them to be. After sleeping, people are almost innocent.

I spent another night alone. Who should I blame? The weather is nice outside, you can see it through the window. I arrived to Sherwood Forest.

Sherwood Forest

I decided to spend my day off properly. I dreamed about Dagny last night. Then I saved myself from thinking about women by looking for a job. Undoubtedly! I have money. But I need to get away from these nostalgic thoughts somehow. And writing my CV, answering employers' questions is a sure way to protect myself from introspection process as if I wore bulletproof vest. More than 90% of people are floating in thoughts about the past, living in the past and they like it. Maybe I'm just too strong to face the present. Face to face. And I'm doing it. I don't need to know if God is dead or alive, I don't need a reason for existence or alcohol. Only productivity. It is important to find yourself in the world. That's the whole question.

I received a coat from «AliExpress» made by Yohji Yamamoto - a fake one. I put it on, the black coat touched my ankle. Made in China, not in Japan. I wished the person who sold it to me all the best and thought about breakfast. I eat only vegetable food and cheese, which I sometime find in an almost empty refrigerator. Money is not the main thing to me. Happiness does not depend on them much. If I didn't have them, I might even be happier. Who knows? It's worth learning Czech language, because I've never written a CV in Czech for example.

A billion cars cross a million roads. Every day. I think they might be busy.

So, I went to the airport. Traveling alone. To Sherwood Forest. There was a little Hunter's house in the middle of the forest, I entered its door to see what was there. There was a corpse inside. I went outside and stood behind the door for some time then went back in, it turned out to be just a straw stuffed animal. In different clothes. The world is multifaceted. And I'm going forward. Regardless of the circumstances. Who am I without money? I had an idea of bankruptcy to check. So, upon arrival back, I transferred all the money to the Sherwood Forest Security Fund. This journey changed my focus, nature asked me about the main thing, so my wealth now belongs to her. I'm bankrupt.

But I need money to live. That's why I was waiting for a response to my 64 vacancies. Some cheaters tried to call me, I received more than a dozen

rejections, my CV was multiply reviewed with no reaction. Here it is, I thought, the world of a real bankrupt. I didn't even have the money to join «Work and Travel» program, I couldn’t pay for my apartment public service, or to pay a salary to my personal driver. Empty. How do I feel? Depressed. The world has become gloomy, cold. I didn't like it. But my condition should not depend on circumstances. I realized that I'm not strong at all. Strong enough to face the present, but not strong enough to become forever vulnerable.

Nature shows me that I am weak. Nature gives me an opportunity to believe in myself through my own doubts. As soon as I realized this, I calmed down. After sending my CV to 12 more employers, I read the «Tao Te Ching» and waited for a response. A few hours later, I received an e-mail, I was hired! Ha, that's all! Foreign language knowledge, a creative mind, a pleasant appearance - oh yes sir, I have it all.

«The company is looking for a candidate for the «Video Chat Model» position, we found your resume very interesting». It all seemed suspicious to me. Therefore, I asked them what I’ll be in charge for:

- What will I do?

- You have to communicate on online platforms.

- Tell me more about it.

- Sure, we'll tell you at the interview.

The world is multifaceted. But I don't need philosophers to understand that this job is not for me. Earn money no matter what? Nah, I’ve chosen my way. Even if I'm going to be rich for the rest of my life by photographing my naked ass, what is it worth against eternity? I bought a ticket to the cinema and waited for tomorrow, I wanted to eat my stress down. But I don't eat after 18:00.

invitation to the webcam industry, St. Petersburg. January 23rd, 2021.

Contact-Manager #25

I returned from Sherwood Forest with the brand new record «Sherwood Forest». I read it several times, finding it more and more amusing. Sooner or later, each of us looks «down» and sees his own there. Napoleon looked «down» only after his 50th, Tolstoy also. I decided to dive into myself and take a look at my own «down». Meditation is a conscious rejection of life, a choice of death, a much more profitable investment of your time. The dead do not divide and conquer, do not wish and do not lie.

Everyone has their own power: someone is rich, another is smart, handsome, someone has charisma or bravery. Everyone likes strong and resourceful figures. Take Napoleon. Napoleon was strong. He conquered countries and the hearts of humans, divided people into bad and good, into those who deserved to live and who didn’t, he was driven by vanity, however vanity can’t be smart (and great also). With all the conquests and victories, what is Napoleon’s life worth?

Striving for fame and recognition is not one of the important things. The one who works for the public and sincerely wants to deliver his idea has not yet noticed how cleverly he has been deceived by his own mind. Everything is filled with lies and vanity, except loneliness and death. Kings, beggars, officers and soldiers - no one knows the most important thing in their heart. I won't believe anyone who says anything. The one I would have believed won't say anything anymore. What is not silent is lying. What lives does not love. The whole humanity is focused on false priorities - vanity and fame, and I am with them.

Napoleon lived the way he wanted. He was proud, talented, fearless, believed in his uniqueness and made war.

But the war gave him nothing except defeat. The war cannot give something else. Napoleon is one of the brightest people of all times. I admired him at school. But what motivated him? Vanity and pride - false priorities. And such a bright person did not see it or could not resist.

«What’s the point of life?»

Tolstoy could not find an answer to this question, which baffled his entire existence, terrifying him so much that he had to go hunting without a gun, and hide all the ropes away from his room.

He lived another 30 years after the first thought of suicide. A murderer, a fornicator, driven like Napoleon by vanity, also a family man. He killed people during the war until he aged 26, then he returned from the war and became writer, earned money. By the age of 34, he got married and worked for the sake of his family and their comfort.

He had his own real estate, fame. Women considered him as a Dandy, and for a good reason. But still… He could not cope with the question of the meaning of life, although he had everything that a beggar would give his mouth virginity for.

Why does the best writer of the CIS in its entire history come to such a question only after half a century of life? Napoleon, too, only after multiple murders and his exile started to talk about the Lord and love. Where were they looking both before?

I imagine a body that will lie on the ground and become food for others, rain may fall or the sun could scorch this body but the body will not complain. In people's relationships, I see only bias, an arrogant separation into friends and others, the most important thing doesn’t lie in separation.

Murderers or saints - all made of the same material, which is unreachable for us to see or be felt. Who wants to learn the most important thing in their heart? Units out of billions?

«All the great commanders gathered great armies to conquer the whole world with iron and blood, and only the Lord, without any armies, conquered the whole world only with love» - said Napoleon.

In a world full of power, money, and entertainment, which many people are so eager to, there is no place in human mind for a thought to appear regarding forgiving instead of encouraging those who makes military revolutions, who parasitize on kindness and pity, who force to learn kilometers of the military rules and bury Handballand into the mud. This cannot be learned from books or from the mouth of a storyteller.

The place where God sits

A new day, new life. A good reason to remember that someday it will end. I was baptized in a Christian church and after the ceremony my mother noticed that I had just one slipper on my legs, the second slipper they found at the «place where God sits». I have no memories about this slipper situation due to small age, but once I’ve heard this story from my mom, I always imagined it as an empty throne in the middle of a church, standing in silence. My slipper was lying next to this throne - this image… Is the threshold of the whole delta of my life.

In kindergarten, there was a girl's bed next to mine, it was a sleeping hour when she put her hand in my pants, it kept happening until we went to school, where I had to spend some time too. I haven’t understood school at all.

The university was more civilized. I got my social circle, took part in organization of student events, international conferences, although I lived with a bunch of neighbors - yes, I was not rich enough to live alone. A modest life prompted me to read «Tao Te Ching» book, the pages of which made it clear, that poverty was no longer as necessary for me as «Pyramid Heads» for James Sunderland.

Through diet, meditation, and abstinence, I managed to shape a life dominated by success. However, after Sherwood Forest, I realized that it was worth returning to my previous conditions.

While I was waiting for rear responses from employers, I went to the cathedral, where I listened to singing and music, which sound made a sad excursion into my former life. Gothic hall of the church was so high, the windows played with a small amount of sun... At some point while I was growing up, I thought about

creating a final version of my reality in order to become serious and active person, instead of being involved in aesthetics or some vague things in the field of the spirit. Any general or industrialist would say that I was useless, so I had a feeling of guilt and because of that went to the factories to work for pennies, later to the army. I gained experience and showed myself well everywhere I was. But still, despite my successes, this world remained to me a place where I felt like a stranger, where all the best in me was dying. These attempts to become useful to society ended up in understanding that all these factories and armies were just a capitulation of my own fate. I was on my knees, crying and asking the higher powers to light my way.

I received two letters by e-mail, two employers agreed to hire me. That's good. I left the cathedral and returned home, quickly opened the door and began to undress myself. Walking by the corridor, I noticed something, it smelled of perfume. «What a tasteless thing» - I thought. Dagny was lying on the pull-out sofa bed.

- Where did you get the keys? - I asked.

- Is that all you care about?

- No, something else: where can I buy your cheap perfume?

She threw a glass at me, then jumped up and along with the dust, raised the question of my life and death.

I have always been helped by higher powers, and I have not been shy about asking for help. But, like any perfume, words have their own price...

Contact-Manager #26

During all my life I had three pieces of underpants. Now I bought the fourth. My vacation is over. I decided to stay in England. Burning my whole life by working every day? That wasn’t my goal anymore. I will find him. Everything or nothing. Fuck Steaps. Somebody has to know about Arthur Poghosyan.

Besides, I was in love with woman who was sitting at the reception. I spent enough time living at this hotel to understand: she wanted a man. I walked up to her:

- Do you want to sleep together?

Nature, through the hands of this woman, refused to transfer my DNA to the next generations. But that’s okay. I went down, took my dinner at the canteen and locked myself inside the room.

Cemetery

We came to cemetery. Crows were sitting on crosses and rocks. I ended up with drinking, that’s why I was without beer. Usually, I take some. There was a day sunlight shining on my great- uncle’s humble tombstone. Of course, I could make something more epic for him, but I’m pretty sure he would be against it. «Modesty is such a thing...» - he started and then kept silent for a very long period of time. I think he meant something like that.

- You’re out of beer today? - Henry asked.

- Yes, ended up.

Henry and I stood silently due to respect for my great-uncle. He was a good oldman, taught me how to shoot a rifle, gave me wisdom which I never use. What did he die of, anyway? Mystery. Death has too many faces, no need to waste time thinking about that. Did he believe in the afterlife? What kind of music he listened to?

I’ll never know.

- Let’s go, - I nodded to Henry as I walked back to the car.

- What about flowers? - He asked.

We forgot them inside the trunk. Henry threw me keys from the car and stayed waiting for me. I went to the car, opened the trunk and took three vinous roses, then came back to a tombstone, but Henry was already gone.

I put the flowers on the ground and looked around, there were no trees in the cemetery, so the area was easily visible, but I did not see Henry.

Not so far away, a path led towards the lake, I thought about going down it. Finally, I saw Henry was over the hill in front of the water. I went up to him.

- Ending up with drinking wasn’t right, - he said, lighting a cigarette.

- Why? You're doing great.

- Because I'm always driving.

Looking at the water, I realized that I had never fished since the day I was born and suggested Henry to go.

- Sober fishing? - Henry asked.

I confirmed.

I wasn’t satisfied with fishing. It's not easy to get fish rid from the hook. The process seemed cruel to me, so I decided not to eat seafood anymore, thus not participating in the chain of killing them.

After our fishing, Henry dropped me off at the house. I looked at the rest of the single malt whisky bottle, now it's just for her. Still, that apartment wasn’t too bad, time was far from 18:00, so I ordered a pizza. I earned enough not to

work for the rest of my life, so I quit the university and for now I’m no longer a teacher. Now there is a time to take care of myself, to think about what to do next.

«Mercedes», a personal driver, a nice apartment in London and an estate in Chernivtsi, as well as exceptional relationships with Dagny. I sat down in an armchair and imagined my life detailed. Like a toy model. I will be gone in 50 years. Many people could dream of such a life, but all material things are temporary. Things are not permanent, not eternal. And what I want is endless happiness. That's why I'm not interested in «Mercedes» anymore.

- The highest value of the material world lies in the possibility of escaping it,great-uncle spoke to me.

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. Could it really be her? I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I looked through the peephole...

It was a pizza delivery guy.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. Decriminalization of Denis Kosachev's cultural heritage in a brief retelling of Ayn Rand's «The Fountainhead», a record found in Massachusetts, dated between 12 ve and 15 th of December, 2020.

Contact-Manager #27

I got myself a car for a rent. From «Mercedes AMG» windshield, I saw the world still full of colors. Autumn brought me to the next record of Arthur Poghosyan, from which I found out, that John Steaps and Arthur Poghosyan are connected.

Rain

After getting rid of all the addictions, I found that I was addicted to sobriety. «A little boy wants a little joy», as John would say. John Steaps is an old friend of mine, anytime any unfamiliar number called him, he always repeated the same thing:

- Yes, it’s John Steaps... ah-oh, yes... Who?

After I learned something about autophagy, I decided to arrange dry fasting 2 times a month.

For those like Steaps, hope must be something that has been cut down at the root. Life and death give us gifts that we can either accept or try to reject. Steaps is one who has never received intimate photos from women. As well as any objections of harassment. When I asked about his favorite animal, he slowly listed:

- Capybara... worm... cheetah... Is it possible to have only three?

Unable to live this week any longer, I was nevertheless grateful for the short evenings it provides to finish things.

A spicy food delivery came for lunch. While expanding my gastronomic horizon, I went for a walk, which will replace my afternoon meditation. I remembered John and my student year spent in London on an exchange-program, Middlesex University.

The whole world is filled with a bunch of distractions from the main thing. John's favorite of these distractions was a woman's ass.

He greeted each new ass from the subway, the street, the store like it was the dawn. And to every ass, which he suddenly became out of the way, he said goodbye as to his mother when leaving to the army.

If he had 10 minutes of his life left, he would spend every minute for checking pretty women's asses.

But he had many things to happen ahead, and while he was walking through the park, his face, as always, expressed a lack of emotion. His loneliness, like a grayhaired old woman, cried inside of his soul somewhere deep inside, mumbling

inconsolably and hoping for someone's favor from the world outside.

He didn’t pay attention to this old woman inside of him. She, with her eternal crying, the intensity of which increased when Steaps reached any random lightly dressed women in a summer park, could not find even a drop of sympathy in him. Such durability of Steaps of not to face reality is only to be envied, and, according to British scientists, isn’t possible to be achieved.

Setting an absolute record in ignoring his animal nature, he also put himself in a difficult position - his choice between the path of a Buddhist monk or a doomer. But later he got married and bought a «PlayStation 4». The face of a gray-haired old woman sitting in him finally depicted a shadow of a smile after all worries and ordeals of her one big and long past. Everything has settled down. After I left England, I never saw him again.

His desire for a female body was understandable to me, it is understandable to everyone at our age. But to keep it from going too far, John kept repeating: «There is a remedy against which any woman is powerless - to look down the floor». He was really good at his own art. While looking down the floor he seemed sweet and shy at the same time. I would never have a thought he could get married, but he did. And also, before me. The thing was I never managed to see their happy couple together, calming myself that Steaps wife was probably below average level.

Where is John now? How he is doing? He may still be in London. Looking down the floor? We get to know people and then lose them. We're losing connections.

My great-uncle died on my birthday. I lost him. I lost a loved one. He was frying potatoes in the kitchen, I called the doctors, and after they left, I opened a bottle of single malt. The realization of his death reached me more slowly than the flow of a working day. When I went into the bathroom, I could still smell him. He used his perfume there. Anytime I went to the bathroom, I always realized he was here recently. The small room didn’t have enough time to cover up the traces of the smell of burnt rubber, dried carrots, or incense. The smell did not have time to

fade even after his death. This time it was «Serge Lutens - L'orpheline» - incense. It is impossible to confuse it with another perfume. That day I was orphaned. And for the rest of the days when I catch an incense smell, it always brings me back to the last memories of a loved one, on such days I try not to get drunk.

«A fish eats a worm, even though the worm lives in the ground and fish is in the water. Why fish eats something she's never seen before?»

My great-uncle tried to give me enough so I could distinguish the worm from the rest things. I failed and fell in love with Dagny. No matter how hard I tried to get out afterwards, I was already hooked. At first, it seemed like she depended on me. But later our scales have changed. Is it surprising when you are dealing with women?

Contact-Manager #28

I left the hotel to visit Steaps. Now I knew something about him. I reached his office, the door was closed. But I had enough time. I sat down and waited. I waited until the sun rose again. Next, I returned to the hotel, took my pager, filled my bag with all the Arthur’s records and went out to drink a glass of beer. To the nearest bar I had around.

I’m used to tapping my finger on any surface, saying «DING». I don't know why I did this, it probably added some charm to the time of day, especially in the morning.

«DING»

I thought how tired I was and started to scream.

I didn't want to see these asses covered in jeans, I didn't want to put food into myself, I didn't want to touch other people's clothes on public transport, sniff people, brush my teeth, shit, wipe dry, wipe wet, then dry

again, endure hot and cold weather, flies, mosquitoes, cockroaches, old people and WHAT women turn into after their 30th... On the bar counter, I took a pager from my pocket and lifted it up, I made my hand a good swing, almost roller coaster, then I let it go and the pager flew straight down to meet the solid floor, breaking and sounding like a glass container, like a bottle of Belgian beer. After destroying the pager I took a bottle of my finished Belgian beer and made my hand another good swing:

- NOOOOOOOO!!!!!! - the man on the other side of the bar counter started to beg me, he was in charge here.

I had no idea what happens next. I didn't see my future. I didn't have it. Neither life nor death belonged to me. Only loneliness. I took out my phone and opened «Tinder» app, and once again thought about what belongs to ME.

This and that are «not», but this one is «yes», and then SHE will come, and THIS will no longer belong to ME.

- FUCK ARTHUR POGHOSYAN!!!!!!!! - I shouted.

The man who called me a shit-eater, John Steaps, sat down next to me. Here he is.

- Arthur Poghosyan? - he asked.

- Arthur PO-GHO-SYAN, - I repeated syllabically.

- Interesting... - said Steaps.

Steaps started asking me questions. I gave him all Arthur’s records which were in my bag. And I fell asleep. Then I was woken up, it was Steaps again.

- What do you know about the sea salt woman? - he asked.

- What do I know about the sea salt woman? Nothing.

The next time I was woken up by the man on the other side of the bar counter:

- We're closing up.

- I decide when we are closing up, - I said.

- Not today, buddy.

- Alright, - I said.

I got up and went to the exit. The fog was blocking the exit door.

I asked:

- Should I go through the fog?

- I think so, - he replied.

I had no records with me, I remembered that I had gave them to the best detective in London. At the exit from the bar, I had to walk through the fog, as it turned out, nothing complicated. All records of Arthur Poghosyan were given to Steaps. And in the complete darkness of this night, I was walking to the hotel. Of course, I didn't forget to tell the bartender «Ciao», as Italians and a good half of Europe do. I walked through dark streets of night that looked and felt differently, not like in the daytime.

- Hey!

I looked up. Someone was calling me from the window.

- It's flying to you! - someone told me. It was either a girl or a guy.

Indeed, a paper airplane was flying down. I was unable to catch him, so I stood and waited for him to land, when he landed, I took him and looked up:

- What is it? - I asked. But no one was there.

I looked at the paper plane and saw the name of the new record «An old friend».

An old friend

I was laying down as if I was a saint.

- I need help, - Dagny whispered.

- Any pawnshop business?

She told me some of her stuff was left in her ex-husband’s apartment.

- Were you married?

- Fuck no. Yes…

I agreed to help her, she told me it’s better to start before dark. We approached the apartment. I knew this neighborhood.

- Entering someone’s place costs 14 years, - I warned Dagny.

- There are my clothes.

- We will buy some, new ones.

- I want mine.

- Why not to speak to your husband?

- Ex-husband. He got changed, speaking is over.

She took the lock pick and started rotating.

- Now I see, - I said.

- Can’t go through the walls so far.

The locker was opened, we came in. I took off my shoes and a coat, Dagny didn’t. She started gathering her stuff.

- Any help?

She didn't answer. I could hear fragrance from the lobby, and as I moved into the room, I was immersed into the atmosphere of incense, musky freshness... Like clothes after washing- machine, like frosty weather, I recognized him, the unchangeable «Serge Lutens - L'orpheline», which was used by my great-uncle. The scent brings back memories... Not too happy. I looked around the apartment, there was a photo on the table. A standard family on the photo. Dagny was hugging a young man who seemed very familiar, a young man was holding a baby.

- You had a baby? - I asked.

- A girl, she lives at John’s aunt place.

- John’s?.. - I repeated after her silently.

There was a sound from the hallway, someone came in. My heart started to play. I glanced at Dagny and waited. Maybe it was just some random apartment sound.

- Who's there? - An old woman asked.

- Oh, aunt Death, it's Dagny! How are you?

- I'm going to die soon. Who's that with you?

- John's friend.

- We studied at university together, - I said.

- But where is John? - An old woman asked.

- In the bathroom, - Dagny said.

- Oh, so tell him I said hi, - she said, and left.

Dagny looked confused and hesitant, as if someone nearby shot into the sky. Time to cheer her up. I asked:

- Let’s move out?

We took out the bags full of clothes and closed the door.

- Aunt Death? - I asked.

- Yes, neighbor.

- Serious?

We reached my apartment and put down all the bags. Dagny started to fill up empty cabinets and shelves.

- This John, how did you meet him? - I asked.

- We studied at Middlesex.

That was and also wasn’t surprising me.

- Who does he work for?

- First at «McDonald's», then at the police, now he is like a private detective.

- Did we break into a policeman's apartment?

- A former policeman. He got changed.

- I knew him, we studied together.

- Do you know him? But how? - She was surprised.

- Three trimesters in Middlesex, by exchange-program. Dagny, how did you even marry him?

- He was… - she started her explanation and stopped it.

- So? - I asked.

Dagny was in the middle of sorting through her things and seemed thinking whether to answer my question or not. I got up, sank my feet into my shoes and went out. Was it really John I’ve known? Definitely. And Dagny? I was so disappointed. I walked for a while, thinking about him and his passion of women's asses, he was pretty lucky with Dagny, wasn’t he? The smell of «Serge LutensL'orpheline» didn’t fit with the memories of him, although I admitted that I still wasn’t able to understand the nature of people at all.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. Consideration of a commercial offer with «Pordurière» сompagnie in order to update the termination conditions of the contract due to climatic changes or other cataclysms like possible malaria of the Customer while standing anchored at the Fort-Gono. June 16, 2021.

Contact-Manager #29 (John Steaps diary)

I received this diary at my hotel room, with the money in it. There were envelopes with a cash, bank card and a password to it. Then I opened the diary, it said that Steaps studied at Middlesex with Arthur Poghosyan while Arthur was in London on an exchange program. During their education period together with Arthur, Steaps was nothing but a simple guy. Later Steaps got married and had a

daughter. He worked as a policeman. He served right at the time of the case, when children were found dead in the waters near Pecks Falls in Massachusetts. All kids were 9 years old. Another clue was an emerald ring on children’s fingers. Children from poor families. Later, someone drew attention to the owner of the shoe workshop, who was talking to a child: «If you jump with this ring on your finger, you will be caught by the flying lark and carried away to the land of dreams». That's how the children were thrown off the edge. Someday there was a thunderstorm, Steaps was returning home from the work, catching a taxi, he was struck by lightning. When John got up from the wet asphalt, he realized that everything was divided into «before» and «after».

The changes that happened to him «after» were not as gloomy as it might seem. Nevertheless, his wife left, leaving their little daughter in the care of John's aunt. Steaps left the police, became a private detective and quickly earned reputation on the streets as the best detective who takes on everything and solves everything. Later, an organization associated with «Literature Lessons» learns about him. A bit later, the head of this organization spoke to John:

- Sea salt woman, Handballand. Seven days.

Rumors were saying what happens to those who don't do their jobs on time. It is impossible to refuse the personal order from the head of «Literature Lessons». And it wasn’t recommended to be late with the order, too. If you were late, it is useless to run, there is no such speed in your legs. The punishment was hard. Those who were lucky lost their access to the organization. Someone was killed, someone's family disappeared.

Steaps didn’t know what he needs to find. Handballand? A sea salt woman? Six days were passed, last day of his deadline, he goes to a bar, where he hears about Arthur Poghosyan. Somebody screamed this name, John recognized the one who was screaming - me. He sits down and starts asking questions. I give him the notes and fall asleep on the bar counter. While I was sleeping, Steaps read everything that I had collected over the years from Arthur Poghosyan. So, through all these records he finds out about Handballand. But he doesn't see a word about the sea salt woman. John wakes me up to ask:

- What do you know about the sea salt woman?

I didn't know anything.

He is the best detective in London, but he can't find a single clue about Poghosyan, only a short interview in a mediocre magazine. He understood which Dagny was mentioned in the records. He could ask her about sea salt woman. But it can take a long time to find her, she knew how to stay under the shadows. So Steaps decides to get in contact with Henry. The next morning, John calls Henry, inviting him to his office as a private investigator. Henry arrives at the office, agrees to a cup of tea. Henry doesn't help Steaps to find out anything about Poghosyan. Of course, John knew that Henry would not say too much, so he added sleeping powder to his tea before the conversation. When Henry returned home, Steaps followed him. The dose of sleeping powder was calculated successfully: when Henry, half asleep, barely resisting, enters his apartment, Steaps follows after him. He took Henry’s body and put it on the floor. Steaps had no interest in Henry, he was looking for information about Arthur Poghosyan, who may lead him to a sea salt woman. He had no other clues, he had no time also. He searches for the phone in Henry's pockets to contact Poghosyan, but there is no phone. «Chirp-chirp!» - Steaps sees a canary in a cage.

The landline phone rang. John picked up the phone. - Henry, is everything okay? - Good afternoon, Arthur.

- Who are you? - John Steaps.

- It's been a long time, John.

- See you later. Take the Woman with you.

- There are a lot of good women on the street, John.

- I need a sea salt one.

- I've heard of it...

Steaps smiled. The case was getting better. However, he missed his deadline yesterday. After 15 minutes Steaps heard a knock on the door, then it was opened. It was Arthur Poghosyan. Steaps was sitting next to Henry, who seemed sleeping on the floor:

- Is he alive? - Arthur Poghosyan asked.

- Where is the Woman?

- In the hallway.

Steaps went into the hallway and picked up «Sea Salt Woman» painting.

- This one?

- Yes.

- How's Dagny? - John asked.

- More often… She keeps silence. You know about him too, right?

Steaps nodded.

- Give him this, please, - Arthur gave Steaps a record.

- No promises.

Steaps left the apartment with the painting and the envelope. He headed towards Literature Lessons. The deadline has expired. There was no point in running off.

He came to the place. He was told that time was up and there was a tape waiting for him in his office. He gave «Sea Salt Woman» painting to a man and returned to his office, where he put the tape into an old VHS player. What he saw was related to his little daughter.

A record was attached among the pages of the diary. From Arthur Poghosyan. «Sea Salt Woman» it called.

Sea Salt Woman

I often left my apartment to her. Don't know where did she live while she wasn't staying at my apartment. So it happened again when I decided to take a little vacation. After I gave my door keys to Dagny, I moved to Lancashire city and rented a room in a 3-star hotel opposite to Dam Reservoir.

In Lancashire, I was passing by an abandoned park and decided to enter its gates. In front of the rusty roller coaster sat an old man, who reminded me my grate-uncle. Due to their similarity, I felt sympathy for this old man. He was sitting on a special chair, which painters usually use. Also he had a canvas placed on an old wooden easel. He was sitting alone. I watched him from behind and noticed that he had not been painting anything for a very long time, the canvas remained empty. I was interested and decided to walk up to him, maybe if he hadn't reminded me of my great-uncle, I probably wouldn't do that.

- Morning, - I greeted him. My own voice wasn’t mine, because I was not yet fully awake.

An old man slowly turned around and hardly smiled in case for just being polite with me. He looked like Asian, maybe he didn’t speak English.

- I meant no interruption sir, - I said.

He didn’t answer. Maybe, he didn’t understand. What he was doing is just looking right in front his canvas.

We stood still for 10 minutes more. I stood actually, he sat in front of his wooden easel. He had three different size brushes and some paint inks in several tubes like toothpaste. I looked around. Autumn was my favorite season. Leaves started to fade in yellow.

- Soon leaves must fall, - I said.

This old man kept silence. I sat on a grass and crossed my arms on my knees. I enjoyed this place. We were sitting here right until the dark came. But an old man haven’t paint anything.

I came here the next morning. I wanted to see him again. He was sitting there, same empty canvas as yesterday. I sat down next to him. Looking at his creation process, I wanted to draw something by myself. The next day I found an easel, paints, canvases and came here every morning like him. An old man remained silent and waited. I didn't draw anything either, until one day I had a dream which I already had when I was a child: a clear day, blue sky, a hill opposite the sea, a man in a coat standing, looking into the distance. To his right side there is a scarecrow made of dry sticks, on which flaps of leather were stretched. Sticks and leather flaps made up the full height of the female figure. The man in the coat and the scarecrow stood together in the middle of the surrounding trees, as if they were staying between the walls of the room. And the sea breathed a salty breeze into their bodies. In my dream, this picture had a long title, but I managed to remember only «Sea Salt Woman».

When I woke up, I gathered all my stuff and went to an old man’s place. The only thing that was important to me was to draw this dream as soon as possible. When I arrived, an old man was already there as always. But this time he was holding a brush painting all over the canvas. No fucking way. I rushed towards him immediately, but I stopped myself, I must not distract him. Quietly approaching, I saw his drawing, it was my dream he was painting. I watched this old man as he drew a hill, the sea, the wind, a man in a coat and female scarecrow. When everything was ready, he put down the brush and nodded questioningly towards the painting:

- Yes, - I said.

He gave me the canvas with the «Sea Salt Woman» and left. I didn't come the next morning because I was sure he wouldn't be there anymore. In a good temper, I called Dagny.

- I need you.

- Okay...

It was a long time I waited for her. When she arrived, I showed her the abandoned park and the place where an old man was sitting, I told her about what had happened.

- Show me, - Dagny said.

We returned to my hotel room and I showed her the painting.

- You couldn’t do such a thing, - she said.

Together we stayed one night at the hotel. We haven't slept so well together in a long time. She had her problems, I had mine. But at that time, we both felt a sense of clarity. For a short time, everything became normal.

The next morning we drove back to London. On the train, I asked her to marry me.

- Oh, please… - she answered.

I hold the painting in my hands and was really depressed this time, but I was forced to admit that she was right after all.

- I'll never get married, - she said.

- Will you only come to my house and break all the glasses until there's nothing left?

She stared at the train window and kept silent, just like an old man with a brush. 8 hours to London left. I also stared out the window at the flashing trees. Everything was shimmering yellow. An hour before arriving at Euston Station, I dialed Henry's number, he will be able to pick us up.

- Henry will pick us up, - I said to Dagny.

- I’ll not go, - she answered.

I didn’t ask why. Too many energy was leaking out of me through the wholes of bullets of her answers. She herself and her entire behavior always made me numb eventually. I wanted to run away, escape into myself, forget myself and stop being a human with all of these ears, eyes, feelings, without an option to exist, like wind or something.

I glanced at her. She remained silent.

(с) Arthur Poghosyan.

Contact-Manager #30

It was the last thing I received from Arthur Poghosyan. John Steaps money with his diary and the last attached record «Sea Salt Woman» inside helped me to get back on my feet. From that day, I haven’t seen Steaps anymore. His office stood for a rent. More than three years passed from the moment I received his diary with Arthur Poghosyan’s last record. For these three years I haven’t heard a thing about Arthur Poghosyan, besides… To be fair, I wasn’t searching anymore. I minded my business, bought a house, found myself with a wife, together we looked into a family creating. As I wanted, I bought black «Mercedes», an old one. Good looking. We were at the restaurant. My wife told me she had to powder her nose. I gathered all sugar dust that fell from Turkish delight to table and put it in my mouth, washed it down with tea, crossed my arms and looked

around. Wooden furniture in dark brown tones around, it was warm and windless today. Looking around, I caught a glance at myself, the same one that I had seen only once in my life. It was the second time now. With a white cup in his hands, he looked at me, expressing absolutely unidentified mood. I was looking right at him. He was looking at me. Arthur Poghosyan. It couldn't be. Suddenly, impenetrable abyss between us occurred, abyss of my wife’s blouse that was bought by the money I earned.

- There's a couple making THIS right in the booth, - she said, - how normal it is?

I looked at her fully shocked and waited until she sat down. Arthur Poghosyan was gone.

«Where is he?»

- My God, where are you going? - She asked.

I ran up to the table where he was sitting, only a white cup of unfinished tea on a dark brown table was reminding of him. «Chamomile?» I rushed to the exit, opened the door. The noise of rapidly spinning tires on the asphalt sounded through the street, the black «Mercedes» was leaving its parking lot, looked fresh, good taste. I ran after him, but «Mercedes» picked up the speed and disappeared behind the building. I caught my breath, while putting hands on my knees. Waste of time. I went back. My wife was running towards me.

- GOD, WHAT HAPPENED?

- Wait…, - I asked her to wait a second, we went back to our restaurant and sat down on the concrete steps.

- When you ran away, there was a man who asked me to deliver you this, - she gave me white envelope with a very familiar design. I took it.

- You’ll open this?

- Why?!

- Nothing’s inside there.

- Give me this thing back, - she snatched the envelope from my palms.

- There is nothing inside. I know who gave it to you.

- And WHO?

She opened the envelope, took out a piece of paper and said:

- Nothing’s inside? You are the only one who has nothing, dummy. Look what it says… Did men ever send you a poems? - she said and started to read.

I listened while she was reading. It was the poem «Home», no matter how hard I tried to express in words everything that really worried - I couldn’t, but this poem did, and did it best.

At the end it was signed:

«P.S. Goodbye, Contact-Manager. Beware the yellow snow».

- Is it… Are you a Contact-Manager? - she asked.

Famous cap, a bib with a cherry (which became his «business card»), and delicate skin. Kukva didn't know yet about his future hard twists and turns of fate which life has prepared for him. 19 assassination attempts, 7 deaths, 2 children, 15 divorces without even one wedding, 2 life sentences, 8 poisonings by eating a noodle, an interstellar expedition, life in Budapest, purchase of a Czechoslovak furniture wall - this is a small list of events happened in Kukva’s life.