Тройной тулуп

[arbeka]

или искусство перевозчика

Драма тург извлекает драму. Из мусора, почти из "ничего".
Живая труппа артистов берется из сухого замысла изо бразить вечно зеленое древо.
Зрительница, обливаясь эмоциями, переводит действо на себя, пушистую.
.........................
Ряд можно продолжить (пересказ подруге, которая переводит старшей дочере, которая, по секрету, сообщает сестре...)
Но речь идет о круго вороте пере вода в при роде.

Comments

[belkafoto.livejournal.com]

What happened then?

My father gave up weeping. He had to get back to work. My mother packed up our things and took us to live with Neal in the trailer he had found, out in the country. She said afterward that she had wept, too. But she said also that she had felt alive. Maybe for the first time in her life, truly alive. She felt as if she had been given a chance; she had started her life all over again. She’d walked out on her silver and her china and her decorating scheme and her flower garden and even on the books in her bookcase. She would live now, not read. She’d left her clothes hanging in the closet and her high-heeled shoes in their shoe trees. Her diamond ring and her wedding ring on the dresser. Her silk nightdresses in their drawer. She meant to go around naked at least some of the time in the country, as long as the weather stayed warm.

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2011/06/27/gravel-alice-munro