Max and the wild thing

10 wild facts about Maurice Sendak's Where The Wild Things Are | Children's books

President Obama chose to read one of his favourite children’s books, Where The Wild Things Are, for the 2016 Easter Egg Roll at the White House. His very dramatic reading, accompanied by First Lady Michelle, featured claws and roars from the excited crowd! As one of our favourite children’s books too, here are some fun facts that you may or may not know about Maurice Sendak’s classic.

1. The book is about the author’s childhood

Where The Wild Things Are is inspired by Maurice’s youth, his background growing up in Brooklyn and his relationship with his parents. He intended to write about his own experiences and the people he knew, and the books became a form of self-expression for him.

2. Maurice actually began his career as an illustrator

Maurice’s first published work were illustrations for a textbook titled Atomics for the Millions in 1947. He continued to illustrate other people’s children’s books, before he was given the chance to write and draw his own.

3. Where The Wild Things Are was not the original title

The initial working title of the book was ‘Where The Wild Horses Are’, and the story was supposed to be about a child who escapes to the land of the wild horses. Although his editor loved the idea, Maurice realised he was unable to draw horses, and the idea of the ‘Wild Things’ was born.

4. ‘Wild thing’ refers to a Yiddish term

When Maurice was a child, his mother often used to call him a “vilde chaya”, meaning ‘wild animal’ in Yiddish. In the book, when Max’s mother call’s him a “wild thing!” he retorts with “I’ll eat you up!”, which is why he is sent to bed with no supper.

5. The ‘Things’ in the book were based on Maurice’s relatives

Maurice began to draw his ‘Things’, which he wanted to be personal creations rather than stereotypical and traditional monsters. He soon realised his inventions were similar to his Jewish relatives from his childhood, who came for Sunday lunch each week and often told him he “looked so good we could eat you up”. He focused on their appearance as entertainment when he was younger, and this is what inspired the ‘Wild Things’.

6. Like Max, Maurice often went to bed without his supper

After dressing in his wolf costume and causing chaos in his house, Max is sent to bed with no supper as a punishment. Maurice revealed that he too sometimes went to bed without any supper, but for a very different reason – he hated his mother’s cooking!

7. The book was initially received badly

Upon its release, many psychologists thought that the book would be very traumatising for young children. A prominent psychiatrist said the book would cause fear of desertion, and that Max throwing a tantrum is unacceptable behaviour which appeared to be glorified in the story. Since then, the psychiatrist revealed they had never even read the book, and it has gone on to receive many awards, including the Caldecott medal.

8. Maurice didn’t want to write a sequel

Despite the popularity of the book, which was his most successful, before his death Maurice revealed he didn’t want to create a series from the story, and there was no convincing him to even consider it.

9. Where The Wild Things Are has been adapted many times

In the 1980s, Maurice worked with the British composer Oliver Knussen on a children’s opera based on the book, which was most notably performed at the Proms in the Royal Albert Hall in London in 2002. In 1983, Walt Disney conducted a series of computer-generated imagery tests, using Where The Wild Things Are as their subject. In 2009, a live-action film version of the book was released, directed by Spike Jonze and with Maurice as one of the producers.

10. The children’s book has received many awards

Obama is not the only president who is a big fan of the book – in 1997, American writer Maurice received the National Medal of Arts from President Clinton!

VZGLYAD / Wild horde and sanitary ware :: Author Maxim Sokolov

Often the speeches that the Apostle Peter makes about the Apostle Paul serve to characterize not so much Paul as Peter. Psychologists call this projection. Many denunciations of the Russian army, produced by Kiev, can serve as a fair example of such a projection. For example, the widely developed theme of toilet bowls that became a victim of the Russian military - which became known to the whole world.

It would be a little more plausible (although not too) if the Russian barbarians were charged with plumbing vandalism, that is, crushing toilet bowls. For which a hammer is enough, at the disposal of the motorized part, of course, available. Hit once, that's the whole thing. And it is possible without a hammer and even without a conscious evil will.

In 1990, a domestic journalist, then carried away by the miners' strike movement, drank at home with a member of the Vorkuta strike committee. They drank a lot, and the striker was powerfully built. Deciding to visit the bathroom, he lost his balance there and knocked over the toilet in the fall. Drunk what does not happen.

As for the deliberate vandalism that the brothers and their sympathizers talk about, there are some doubts. The picture of how, having repulsed after the battle, the zagarbnik first of all seeks to crush and crush the toilet bowls, it seems somewhat deliberate. Another thing is looting. Entering a Ukrainian hut, a Russian soldier sees an unknown miracle of plumbing - a toilet with a flush. Driven by a natural impulse “I, Van, I want the same”, he takes the toilet bowl for himself as a military trophy. As Vysotsky sang,

"Trophy Japan,
Trophy Germany,
The country of Limonia has arrived,
Solid Suitcase."

Now there will be a trophy Ukraine. At least there are at least some historical analogies. A myriad of Weltmeister accordions were indeed imported into the USSR by victorious warriors. Although the analogy is still lame. The accordion is an autonomous thing. I took him from the battle, brought him home, and if you know how, play. It does not require any associated infrastructure. The same applies to pieces of cloth, books, tapestries, dishes, etc.

While the toilet is not like that. Firstly, in order to correctly dismantle it, you need skill, and not every toilet bowl can be dismantled: what if it is tightly cemented into the floor? Again, it must be cleaned and laundered. A shitty trophy loses a lot of value. Secondly, when a soldier on his way home with a victory plays the accordion, he looks brave. This is not what a warrior with a trophy toilet looks like.

Third, and most importantly, the toilet, taken per se, is not functional enough. For it to fully work, you need a flush tank connected to the water supply and you need a sewer system into which all unclean things will be washed off. In the absence of such an infrastructure, it remains only to pray for a faience product brought from a long trip, although it will look rather wild. This probably explains the fact that in trophy fever 1945, the requisition of toilet bowls was not observed.

Although, indeed, a flush toilet for a considerable part of the personnel (and not only for ordinary soldiers) was then an outlandish foreign innovation. A lot of the soldiers were from the peasants, and the then collective farm village knew only the conveniences in the yard. The same applied to the regional centers in the outback. And even to the regional centers. Without prior instruction, not everyone understood how to properly use plumbing equipment.

However, the civilization of Europe at that time should not be exaggerated either. Back in the early 1960s a quarter of Parisian households had conveniences in the yard. And such terms as backlash-closet and powder-closet, found in manuals on manor construction, are clearly of German origin. That is, recently even in Germany, the flush toilet was not in the public domain.

However, be that as it may in the relatively recent past with the latrines of Europe, the successes of toilet construction in the years of the first five-year plans were clearly insufficient (it was planned to produce 280 thousand products per year, which is not enough for the USSR; and what were the real production figures, not very understandable) gave the office of Dr. Goebbels a good story on the topic of Russian barbarians. It would fit in with plots of violence perpetrated by the Red Army hordes, etc.

For unclear reasons (most likely, the Reich Ministry of Propaganda in 1945 was no longer up to the toilets) the plot did not go into action, at best remaining at the design level. However, it turned out according to the words of the poet:

“Work! Invisibly, miraculously
Work, like sowing, will sprout.
A life-giving stream will pour;
Printed thought will echo
In the depths of countless minds.

The hypothetical work of unknown Berlin creatives, three quarters of a century later, powerfully and fruitfully responded in the European saga about the wild horde and bright toilet bowls.

Read online The New Wild Hunt. Stories for the living”, Max Frei – Litres, page 4

Girls

At half past twelve Vile descends from heaven to earth. That is, it naturally descends from the sky along a rope ladder, as in a cartoon or movie. It is clear that in fact the ladder is not exactly a ladder, and it is not woven from real ropes, and the process of Vile's appearance is much more complicated than just a descent, but from the point of view of a hypothetical inexperienced observer with normal human vision and strong enough nerves, this could would look exactly like this.

Vile is a celestial, and by profession. She is now the duty Loving Look of Heaven. This is such a job - to look at the city with a loving look from above. The thing is that people know how to build, fill, decorate, enliven, but they don’t know how to inspire. Therefore, without an additional loving look from heaven, any human city remains a completely meaningless place where life is, of course, possible, but not nice to itself.

At the same time, there is no one here to look at the earth from heaven - neither with love, nor without it. Strictly speaking, the local sky is just an air-filled space above the surface of the planet, no one lives there at all. But since the universe is merciful (albeit in its own way, incomprehensible to us), from time to time someone still looks from the sky - not at all, only at some human cities. They are not selected according to some principle: we look at these cities, we don’t look at the rest. It's just that there is a catastrophic lack of specialists, where it is possible to fill a vacancy with local personnel, there is a heavenly loving look.

A being of any nature can become a Duty Loving Look, if it is capable, firstly, of loving and looking, and secondly, depending on its initial position, either climb into the sky or descend there from some higher heaven and stay there long enough, you can with lunch breaks.

For Vile, the position of Loving Eye on duty is an absolutely dizzying career: in her youth she was just one of the many small spirits that inhabit the forest. Perfume in this sense is about the way people are arranged - most people don’t even think of radically changing something in their lives, but some have a hefty awl in their ass literally from birth, and all the most interesting things happen to them. And about the rest, although they seem to be spirits, unusual creatures, there really is nothing to tell.

At half past one, Ula emerges from the river; in fact, Ula just swam there, she does not live in the river. Ula is not a fish and, God forbid, not a mermaid (Yes, I would have shot myself! - Ula laughs when they ask her if she is a mermaid, by any chance). Ula has a good, solid position, she is the Guardian, Guarding the Bridge. And not some kind of transport, with which you won’t get any trouble, but a small pedestrian one. Ula did a great job: there is a lot of joy in this position, but there is practically no work, because nothing really threatens bridges in our time. There is no one to protect them from.

It used to be worth throwing a log across a stream, uninvited guests immediately began to roam along it, back and forth, because, theoretically, the nature of any bridge is such that it connects not only two banks between which it is built, but also others, so unearthly, almost non-existent shores. In the old days, when the gates between the worlds were not yet tightly locked, who only came over these bridges! Well, then it started: some got lost and cry, so that the ground under their feet turned into a swamp from dampness, others come with such gifts that it would be better to rob, and still others are simply hungry - these, of course, are the worst. In general, in ancient times, the Guardians of the Bridges did not sit a single day without work, but that fun time has long passed, and the positions of the Guardians remain - let them be, you never know, suddenly one day they will come in handy again. And it would simply be dishonest to dismiss the old warriors.

Ula did not see those times, she is very young, she was born only four hundred years ago. And the position went to her, one might say, as an apology, when a bridge was first built in this place. Actually, not just built, they just threw two thick logs across the river. One of them was the Street Tree. I mean, she lived there then.

People like Ula are called “dryads” in mythology, but people don’t understand much about them, if only because there are very different spirits and creatures in the trees. Some are indeed born with the tree and die with it, but such cases are rare. Not every tree has such a pair, just as not every person has a sister or twin brother. Other spirits twist love with trees, flirt, seduce, and when they manage to evoke a reciprocal feeling, they live soul to soul with them, or they shake each other's nerves, but they cannot part, in this sense, the spirits are also just like people. And some simply live in trees, as in houses - if, of course, the tree does not mind either; some trees happily agree, while others do not want to let anyone in, they do not need extra trouble and responsibility. From the point of view of the tree, accepting such a companion tenant is like a person getting a kitten or a puppy.

Ula was just a companion of an old elm who himself noticed her, lured her, tamed her and, one might say, adopted her. She lived with him in warmth and peace, like a god in her bosom, but was left without a home and a patron when the old man was cut down to build a bridge. She was terribly angry then, she was going to destroy the building in order to somehow take revenge on the surrounding residents, but among them there was one smart witch, she came, in all forms she apologized for her relatives - they were born stupid, they don’t know what they are doing. And she taught Ulu useful spells and rituals that allow her to get the position of Guardian of the newly built bridge. Since then, Ula has been living and not grieving, things are going great. Her bridge has already been demolished eight times, but each time they rebuilt it, approximately in the same place, even better than it was. Of course, people don't know anything about Bridge Guardians, but it's not their will, but other laws work. Everything in the world is arranged in such a way that the Guardian, Guarding the Bridge, officially elevated to a position, will never be left without a bridge.

At half past one, Agne wakes up and jumps out of the cold stove like a bullet. I almost slept through a great party, that would be a number! Even just imagining such an opportunity is insulting to tears.

Looking at how Agne sparkles, dances, how her black coal eyes with orange pupils shine, one might think that Agne is a fiery spirit; it is, but only in part. Agne was born an ordinary human girl, she would have remained so, but then a fire broke out. Well, it didn't happen by itself, of course. The mother gave birth to Agne without a husband, secretly, on the outskirts, in an ownerless barn, and then she set fire to this barn and ran away in the hope that only ashes would remain from the baby, and no one would ever know anything (it happened, she was lucky). However, Agne remained alive, because the spirits of fire took pity on her. They had such a good-natured mood that night: the spirits of fire always have fun and rejoice when a person himself, of his own free will, sets a fire. And a baby, when he is less than a day old, if he has not yet seen the sun and has not tasted mother's milk, is a creature so plastic that anyone can be raised from it. Therefore, the spirits of fire took the girl to them, fed her with sweet sparks and taught her to be like them.

Due to her human origin, Agne has a dual nature, she can live both in fire and without fire. True, without fire it tends to sleep, but it’s not bad - sometimes you need to rest. And if you get tired of nodding off, and there is no suitable stove nearby, you can make a fire for yourself with human hands.

But even without a fire, you don't really want to sleep if you don't sit still, but run and jump. And to talk about the most interesting things in the world with girlfriends - this is what Agne thinks with anticipation while spinning in front of a mirror in the women's toilet of a pizzeria, where she has been living in a wood-burning oven for the third year. I chose this place myself, because, firstly, the stove is very beautiful, it is important for Agne, she knows how to appreciate beauty. Secondly, human food is cooked in the stove, which is very cozy and comforting for a girl who grew up surrounded by friendly spirits, but still an orphan. And thirdly, Agne is in love with the local cook. He is incredibly handsome, tall and with a beard. Agne dreams of how one day it will seem to him, looking out of the fire. But he constantly postpones the acquaintance: it is clear that the peasant is more likely to be frightened than delighted. What good, quit and run away from sin.

However, the chef is not a problem, but an additional pleasure. Agna likes being in love so much that it doesn't matter how things end, as long as this funny, happy, bitter feeling doesn't pass longer. Never been in love before.

At 1:30 am Carolina comes down the stairs from the attic, and her shadow, on the contrary, goes up the stairs from the basement. In the lobby of the first floor, Karolina meets with a shadow, hugs tightly, like sisters, merges into one and becomes an unsteady, shimmering and transparent, but still visible, voluminous figure. In this form, it is already quite possible to go for a walk.

Separately, both of them, that Karolina herself, that her shadow are invisible. This is actually quite convenient when it is believed that you died a long time ago, so you have no money, no documents, only dresses, shoes and jewelry are left - those that you yourself remember. And the house, dowry and inheritance, which she renovated, furnished and decorated all her life, she loved so much that after death she could not leave it. I didn’t do anything on purpose, I didn’t ask anyone, it somehow happened on its own - I didn’t want to and didn’t leave. The house was very happy then. Firstly, he also loved Carolina, and secondly, everyone knows that nothing bad will ever happen to a house in which the ghost of a loving owner has settled. It won't burn down or collapse, and people won't demolish it.

It also happened with the shadow, Karolina didn’t know during her lifetime, didn’t read it, didn’t even hear such tales from the nanny - that when you become a ghost after death, you get a new shadow that you can part with for a long time and stay in different places, but she is not a stranger, not a separate person, but your extra eyes. Most of all, it's like cinema - when you see the hall, the people who are sitting in the neighborhood, the toe of your shoe and the bouquet on your knees, and at the same time you carefully watch the film.

But if you wish, you can unite with the shadow for a while, she does not mind, just call. And then you finally become seen and heard. It's nice to walk like this. True, when people see her, they run away screaming or become numb with horror, and Karolina does not particularly like to scare, therefore she prefers to walk at night. But the spirits are not afraid of her at all, they like Carolina, it is interesting with her, so they say. And this is a great success: during her lifetime, Carolina was very sociable, after death she would quickly yearn for loneliness if she had not found her girlfriends among the spirits.

At one in the morning, the girlfriends meet at the Town Hall Square. In general, according to the mind, it is still too early to gather in the very center, in front of everyone. Because at one in the morning people usually still walk around the city, and Carolina, for example, is completely transparent and flickers, passers-by should not look at this. And it's not just about Carolina. Let's say Agne's eyes burn like fires. And Ula is generally only half visible - one arm, one leg, half of the torso, half of the head. She doesn’t show off on purpose to drive more people crazy, it’s just that every Guardian Guarding the Bridge, although it is intact, from the outside always looks like its other half has remained on the other side of the river. Of the whole company, only Vile looks like a completely ordinary young girl, but being a celestial, she walks without touching the ground with her feet; to be honest, it's not called "walking", it's called "floating a meter above the sidewalk."

That's why girlfriends used to meet not earlier than three in the morning and only in the most secluded places. But this winter, you can do anything: the streets are empty, bars and clubs are closed, there are no concerts or parties in the city, people are sitting at home. Therefore, to create anything has become not only possible, but even necessary. This city loves fun, it is upset that in the evenings there is no one on the streets. And you won't wish your enemy to live in a distressed city. There are no such sworn enemies!

* * *

When they meet, Karolina, Vile, Ola and Agne embrace, laugh, show off their new clothes and chatter - all at the same time. Because girls always remain girls, even if they are a hundred times magical creatures. If there was snow, they would also throw snowballs for joy, but it snowed only twice in December, and even that melted immediately, this year's winter is warm.

Finally, Agne – she is involuntarily the liveliest, because if she stays still for a long time, she can fall asleep standing upright – jumps up from impatience and asks so loudly that she shouts over the rest of the voices:

– Where are we going today? Only, chur, let it be a place with a stove or a fireplace. Okay, a stove, if gas, is also quite suitable.

“There's a great bar nearby that got bored without customers,” says Karolina. - Already the plaster on the walls cracked, although repairs were done in the spring. We need to cheer up the poor fellow. And there is a fireplace.

Karolina is always aware of city affairs, the house tells her all the gossip. Houses, especially old ones, always know how other houses are doing.

- The bar is cool! Ula rejoices. - I'll mix such cocktails for you, you will rock! In every sense at once. I was just recently taught two killer recipes. At the Yule party hosted by the old Guardians under the Green Bridge. How I regretted that you were not there! But we are strict with this, you can’t come to corporate parties with friends, old people love it when everyone around is their own.

– Nothing, – Vile smiles, – I looked at you from the sky. It was better than any movie.

“We also had a party,” says Agne. “Customers are not allowed into restaurants now, food is sold to take away, but our chef secretly spent four friends after closing, they sat in the kitchen all night, drinking wine and baking pizzas with funny toppings. For example, ham, artichokes and orange marmalade!

- And we got bored with the shadow on Yule, - Karolina admits. - And they decided to have fun, to scare the residents properly. Actually,” she adds hastily, “I don’t usually scare people. But occasionally, I think you can - just to spice up the atmosphere. Anything is better than sour in the attic on a holiday!

- Sometimes you even need to! Will confirms. “If they’re still afraid, it’s better to have you than each other, the police and get sick.” After all, you are, from a human point of view, a miracle. Terrible miracles are better than none at all.

- Let's go to that bar with a fireplace! - Agne hurries everyone. What are we standing for?

Karolina enters the bar first - it's convenient to be a ghost, any house is happy to see you. With other spirits it is not so clear. By force, of course, they will penetrate anywhere, but it is much more pleasant to have fun in a house that, by itself, voluntarily wanted to let you go over the threshold.

Therefore, Carolina always goes first. She is an outstanding diplomat.

“I'm not alone, but with my girlfriends,” says Karolina, once inside. - The girls are great! Spirits, but good-natured. Funny, but not enough to blow everything up. One looks with such a loving look that I become alive. The other will kindle the fireplace for you. And the third knows how to make cocktails. Ka-a-a-ak will interfere with everything! True, her old warriors taught her, maybe it will be so strong that it is impossible to drink. But it's interesting! Let's see.

Caroline usually takes longer to persuade, to explain that spirits are not necessarily a hooligan, to promise to keep order and leave no later than at dawn, but this bar is so bored without customers that the door swings open even before Caroline can say : "Open".

Agne first of all goes to the fireplace and squeals with delight when she discovers that dry birch firewood is already in it. Ula says, "Let's start with something light," and takes bottles of gin and whiskey from the shelf; vodka and calvados can be added later. Vile finally allows himself to relax and flies up to the very ceiling. Looks from there with such a loving look that battered old bar stools quietly moan with joy, and says:

– Girls, I was just thinking, we don't see each other very often. Just once in a long human week is quite enough in the summer. But not in winter. Certainly not this winter!

“I agree,” Oula nods, taking ice out of the fridge. - If anything, I can leave work every night. We have a free schedule. Not like in the old days.

“I also want to have fun every night,” says Agne, who has already kindled the fireplace and is now basking in the flames like a beach girl on a trestle bed. “But if our boss throws a party at the pizzeria again, then I’ll miss it once, I won’t come. Oh girls, he's so handsome! And the chef is great. I keep thinking about how to get to know him one day. And if you don’t get scared, I myself know that miracles don’t happen, but is it possible to dream? - Invite him to our meeting.

“Let's turn on the music,” says Karolina, referring not to her friends, but to the bar. And let's open the window. Let it be heard all over the street how much fun we have here. It is very important for the city to have fun in it, my house explained it to me.

This is

Here you need to take females. They have more strength and more fear. Strength and fear at the same time! Sounds like science fiction, it doesn't happen, but here it is. Perfect place. It makes no sense to hunt anywhere else while it is there.

But this does not mean that you can take any female. Even a female is not suitable for everyone. You need to find one that has a lot of secret inner strength. The rest doesn't make sense. Too much trouble, too little gain. Absolutely not.

But you don't have to worry about fear. Whomever you choose, there will be fear. They are all afraid of everything.

That's good, thinks is . / I do not know who exactly thinks what it is called, what it is; I don’t even have confidence that it exists in the sense that we imagine existence, nevertheless, is somehow and right now it thinks thoughts quite humanly, because the hunter should become a bit like booty, and here and now booty of this is a person. /

Very good, thinks is . - So strong! Almost glows. It suits me.

* * *

This takes a step /until he steps, but only internally rushes towards the victim/ and takes shape. And along with the form - the name. He does not choose it, does not invent it, but accepts it - what it is, it is. There is such a strange thing with names here - they are somehow connected with the form. They are an inevitable consequence of the form and at the same time help to maintain it. As long as you don't have a form, you can remain nameless, it's up to you. But as soon as you acquire the local form, it immediately turns out that you already have a name too.

Now is called Kristina Zhebas. / I don’t think that the name has any additional meaning and helps to penetrate the essence of the described not-quite-creature, but at least it will be easier for me now - it’s clear how to call it. /

* * *

Zosia goes from work to another job. She still has time. Quite a lot of free time, almost an hour. Therefore, you can not go by bus, go on foot, but go to a coffee shop on the way, buy a matcha latte there of such an incredibly beautiful green color that even if she didn’t like the taste, it would still make sense to order it sometimes. Take a cup, sit and watch.

Zosia is tall, thin, long-legged, not God knows what a beauty, but she looks much younger than her thirty-four. And he dresses like a teenager - in torn jeans, a jacket from Zara, which looks about four sizes too big, but it’s designed, that’s how they wear it now, it’s called “oversized”, in sneakers that are too light, not for the season, with a lot of small earrings in the ears. An adult wealthy woman is given out only by a haircut and a bag, and even then, if you are well versed in such things.

A small matcha latte, this Swedish cinnamon bun, I'll go out and sit on the street under the chestnut tree, Zosya thinks, turning into the square, through which the road goes to the coffee shop. - How good that you can still sit on the street! Every day without rain is like a gift to me personally. Or maybe not "as if", but the truth is for me.

“Finally,” an inner voice, a major specialist in gloomy prophecies out of the blue, insinuatingly suggests. But Zosia ignores him. He thinks: how good it is, such a wonderful day today, such a warm November this year.

The square is almost completely empty, only in the distance two very young girls with strollers are sitting on a bench, and opposite a lonely and hardly sober old man is nodding. Ahead, a woman in a light lilac down jacket is slowly walking along the path; beautiful color, - Zosya thinks, - but it doesn’t suit clothes, it seems somehow cheap and faded. There are such colors, they look great in nature, and in paintings ... I don’t know for sure, but, probably, too. And if the building was painted like that, I would be surprised, but I would most likely like it. And for some reason, definitely not in clothes.

It's funny to Zosia - why are you clinging to it? What difference does it make to me what kind of down jacket someone has? She quickens her pace in order to overtake the cause of her color confusion and start thinking about something more interesting, but at that moment the stranger in a lilac down jacket stops, turns around and affably says to Zosia, like an old acquaintance:

- Good weather today.

“Yes, the weather is good,” Zosya automatically agrees, smiling politely, at the same time trying to remember: do we know each other? Oh no, I have never seen this aunt in my life, I would remember her, she has such a strange face ... - and at that moment she understands that the “strange face” is a skull. Not quite real, not like “poor Yorick”, more like my aunt put on makeup to participate in the carnival, but there is still no makeup.

Zosya doesn't scream, doesn't run away, waving her arms, she, thank God, knows how to control her behavior. Therefore, she reinforces the polite smile that has slipped from her face with a new, even more polite one, walks past the grinning stranger in lilac, trying not to shy away and at the same time not accidentally touch her with her sleeve, and goes further, to the coffee shop, as she was going to. And he arrives safely. And orders a green matcha latte. But no cinnamon roll. Where else is the bun now.

* * *

Very good - thinks again is , it is Christina Zhebas in a lilac down jacket. - Exactly what you need. There is a lot of strength, a violent imagination, and there is a lot of fear in it, such good ones have the sweetest fear! You don’t even have to help, she will do everything herself. Herself, herself.

* * *

It was my death that seemed to me. It was definitely her, Zosya thinks lostly, sitting with a cup of green latte on the summer veranda of a cafe under a chestnut tree, on a cold metal chair at a shaky wooden table.

Am I going to die soon? Zosya thinks doomedly, looking at her palms. - Still, my life line is too short, a fact. Because of this, I never believed in palmistry, I didn’t want everything to turn out to be true, but who in my place would want to. Well, what's the point that I didn't believe. Death is still here.

If death has shown its face to someone, then it definitely wants to take it away, Zosya thinks sadly. - Mom once said that death also greeted her grandmother like this on the street, like just an unfamiliar aunt, and suddenly turned around, and instead of a human face - a terrible dead man's grin. And in the same month, my grandmother died. Is it that death first comes to get acquainted, and only then takes it away? I wonder why? Likes to scare? Or just out of curiosity? Or is she mercifully warning us to finish things? For example, agreed just in case, who will take the cat?

Nonsense, Zosya thinks angrily. - Complete nonsense! It seemed to me. I just didn’t get enough sleep, and not only today, I sleep well all week if for six hours. You think your aunt is kind of scary. Maybe she's just... just a face disease. You have to google it, but what if it really happens that with some diseases, human faces become like skulls? And even if not, all the same, death is only anthropomorphic in fairy tales. So ignorant people imagined it to themselves. In fact, death is a process, not a being, but an event. Someone to greet us. She has no face.

* * *

And yet, Zosya thinks gloomily, "it's stupidity, not stupidity, but just in case, you need to ask Mishka to take Plush for himself, if something is wrong with me ... well, you never know, all of a sudden. Because there is no hope for my relatives: Agnieszka is in England, and my mother always invents allergies for herself even to something that does not exist in nature.

Finally Zosia catches on - time, time! It’s not worth it, such an infection, on the spot, I’m already late, I’ll have to drive up by bus.

Zosya takes a cup of cooled green latte, it doesn't taste good to drink cold, but it's still a pity to leave it like this. But a fly swims in the latte, not a small midge, but a hefty creature, meat, or what? Is that what it's called? Corpse, Zosya thinks doomedly. - Corpse fly. I was in a hurry, you came for me too early.

* * *

Good, good! - thinks is , already unnecessary / is does not like extra effort / has lost its form and the name "Kristina Zhebas", but not the ability to think like a person.

* * *

On the bus Zosya sees an elderly man with large white chrysanthemums and is horrified: a terrible and clear sign, cemetery flowers! Moreover, she fully understands that this is nonsense, the flowers are not from the cemetery, but seasonal, and simply very beautiful, with a bitter piercing smell, she herself bought such a bouquet for home two weeks ago.

What a fool, Zosya thinks dejectedly. - She is to blame, she croaked, she prophesied. Who asked me to bring graveyard flowers into the house?

In order to distract herself from stupid - this is Zosya herself understands - annoying thoughts, she takes out her phone, opens instagram. The first post - Etruscan funerary urns in some museum; oh my god, it just wasn't enough! Zosya thinks in despair, she is almost crying. - Why just urns? What is this, a prophecy? Why did I even sign up for this fucking museum?

At the entrance to the office of the IT company, where Zosya does accounting, a boy and a girl are smoking, or rather vaping, Zosya knows both by sight, but does not remember their names; in fact, it doesn’t matter, it’s important that when Zosia comes closer, a remark reaches her: “She died.”

- Who?! Zosya asks in such an unhappy voice howling with horror, as if she herself is speaking from the grave.

The girl giggles nervously, the boy rushes to explain:

– An actress, – and calls some unfamiliar name; sounds like English, Zosya either forgot this actress, or doesn’t know at all, she has a lousy memory for names. But that, of course, doesn't matter. For Zosya, the only thing that matters now is that she came to work and on the threshold she immediately heard: “She died.”

Zosya, of course, winds herself up. And she understands it herself. But if you accelerate properly, you will already slow down. It's like running down a steep slope, even falling won't stop, if you can't stand on your feet, then you'll roll somersault. It always happens, if there is a reason, and anything can be a reason - a strange aunt in the park, a fly in a cold latte, a random phrase, a picture on Instagram, even other people's flowers. To wind oneself up is Zosin's great gift.

* * *

This is enough: things have gone smoothly. This knows what is happening with Zosya, it feels the victim at any distance, the victim's anxious thoughts about imminent death, while they are just thoughts - something like a snack. Light but pleasant food.

When anxiety is replaced by real uncontrollable uterine horror, panic attacks, ideally, lapses of consciousness, a premonition of imminent non-existence, food becomes satisfying, you can live on such a very long time. And if the victim is so strong that he manages to wind himself up to real physical death, convince his body that it is time for him to die, it will no longer be just food, but also a triumph, sweeter than which there is.

/This actually happens very rarely, few of the of these hunters are so lucky. Not because there is not enough fear in people, fear is just in abundance in almost everyone. But almost no one has the strength to die not their real, but someone else's, premature, almost imaginary death. Humans are rarely that strong, and it's more of luck. When you have a lot of fear, it is better to have less inner strength. /

But is , of course, does not lose hope - go ahead, lose what you have no idea about, what you basically, by virtue of your nature, do not have. This is arranged differently, it does not believe and does not hope, it just wants it to be as it needs. This knows how to want.

* * *

“Just don’t worry,” Zosya says to the gray Plush, a one-year-old cat who is so sensitive to her mood that now she turns away from her favorite canned food and won’t even let herself be petted. He walks in circles around the room, wagging his tail nervously.

“Just don’t worry, please, little one,” Zosya repeats affectionately. - Everything will be fine with you. Never mind, don't mind me. I'm a nervous fool, you're still not used to it in vain. It was just a stupid day, my aunt in the park scared me. We don't give a damn about your aunt, do you? And if something bad happens to me, Misha will take you to him. Remember Misha? You like him, don't you? And he really likes you. Everything will be fine for you.

Zosia needs to calm down, at least for the sake of the cat. It's a sin to irritate Plush, he is sensitive. And clever. Therefore, he believes Zosya's state, and not her words.

On the other hand, now is not the time to calm down. It’s impossible to become calm yet - that’s what Zosya thinks about, lying in bed, where she literally drove herself by force. “I need to worry and be afraid. Fear is the price to buy life. If you're scared enough, nothing bad will happen later. It already turns out that there is no need for any real misfortune, you have suffered the necessary and so.

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