The meeting with Zhiva

Like most ordinary people, I had an idea of ​​the disease “crab”. I was afraid. I bristled, as the time of the meeting approached. I had to meet Ziva in the splendor of a luxury Sofia restaurant and it seemed absurd to me. I thought, that the encounter with the disease should be deliberately moderate, directed sad or artificially raised. From the clothes, which I had to wear, from makeup, which I had to put I suppressed every female string in me, because I was going on a date with. cancer. That cancer, which takes away the most feminine of women's breasts and hair. Like most ordinary people, I had an idea of ​​the disease.

I expected to see a sad and worried woman, I expected to have a difficult conversation. My first meeting with her blew me away. Yes, as I put dark, inconspicuous dress, she was wearing a striking white blouse and spectacular jewelry. Yes, as I was careful not to overdo my makeup, Zhiva had beautifully accentuated the shapes of her graceful face. Yes, as I had gathered my hair, she had let her magnificent curls circulate, like a halo over her head. Yes, as I had to ask the questions, Ziva sensed my shyness and began to speak. Not to ask me, to talk about himself.

He told me first: I love myself! I had to go through a living woman. I needed her lessons, of her energy, of its liveliness! I've never met a man, to which his name fits so well. Less than a month passed and I set off for Burgas, where my heroine's home is. She greeted me even more ardently, more beautiful. Once again I understood, how little age matters, when the energy is in you, the power has not left you, faith, that you will win, the satisfaction of it, which you are. The apartment is nice. After renovation. She threw away everything old alive, she doesn't want to remind her of the disease! Everywhere I see angels hanging from the ceiling, as I walk through the door, in the sect, on the table.

Angels are the guardians of this home. And the cat, the other owner of the house. She repainted everything alive, she painted a new picture on the wall I see the severed head of Medusa from the old parable of Perseus and Andromeda. And I'm sure, that evening, as soon as he calmed down on the soft sofa and looked at the work, Ziva sees the severed head of the disease. I'm sure, that he falls asleep deeply and confidently, that he will wake up at the rising of the winter sun, will open the windows wide, will absorb the freshness of the sea air, he will enjoy the splendor of the day and have breakfast. Delicious breakfast with lots of tea, heavenly apples and a little cinnamon for splendor.


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