The mystery of her smile is not unlike
the great mystery of nature herself.
- What’s the mystery?
She’s just smiling, so what?
Maybe she’s in a good mood.
- Maybe.
Entirely possible.
- My mom smiles like that sometimes.
Only very rarely.
- You see…
…a time will come…
Usually that happens quite
unexpectedly…
You will suddenly see…
…the river…
…the trees…
…and the girl…
…and the way she is smiling…
And even though you’ve seen that
a thousand times before…
…you will be suddenly dumbstruck…
…with a sudden realization…
…how unimaginably beautiful…
…is that girl…
…and those trees…
…and that river…
…and the way she is smiling.
That usually means…
…that love has caught up with you.
- What do you want, Bramble?
- Nothing.
“Yergolina”
- Hey, what’s that you wrote there?
- Where?
- Right there.
- Oh, that… I’m not done yet.
- What did you mean to write, then?
- What, this?
“Yergolina is stupid”
- Gotcha.
- What’s that you got there?
- This?
- That.
- Lermontov, Mikhail Yuriyevich.
A portrait. Do you like it?
Kseniya Lvovna wants it in our room.
“Out of respect for Sergei,” she said.
- Why?
- I don’t know.
Hey, he kinda looks like you.
- You made that up.
- No, I didn’t.
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