Suspicious passengers Your night trains

Specially selected for the japanese Literature Publishing Project (JLPP)

Eko Tavada

List of destination stations:

Journey first IN PARIS!

Second journey In Graz!

Travel third In Zagreb!

Fourth journey In Belgrade!

Travel fifth In Beijing!

Journey sixth In Irkutsk!

Seventh travel journey In Khabarovsk!

Journey eighth In Vienna!

Ninth journey In Basel!

Journey tenth In Hamburg!

Eleventh travel In Amsterdam!

Twelfth journey In Bombay!

Travel thirteenth To the city that is not

Journey first

The station looked somehow strange. Passengers on the platform were frighteningly little. The railway workers ran their eyes, they obviously hid something. Go to someone and ask what happened? Stupid. It remains silently watching what is happening. Some cover of mysteriousness has shown the station, but you are not able to pull it away.

All evening you danced in a tiny institution - next to the Dammator station in Hamburg. In the ears still stands the noise of modern music - as if someone breaks the knee of bamboo, or fearfully triggers a stone bridge with a stick on strength, or rain rinse. The schedule is made up so that on the night train you have time to rehearsals appointed for two hours in Paris. The view begins at seven. How to get up neither the light is dawn and fly by plane, much more pleasant to travel by train. You smugly smile in our own resource.

It is strange that passengers are so few. Even on the always led railway station Alton in Hamburg, almost no one sits on the train, as if inanimate. Maybe the train goes to the depot? With anxiety you look at the scoreboard on the platform: No, everything is right, the destination station is Paris. In the coupe on the six - only you. You can relax. Sorry, I forgot to buy a newspaper. The train begins. After stopping on central Station Hamburg to you so no one has joined.

The sound of steps is heard here. This is the conductor - for a ticket and passport. Red shaped cap looks on the scallop, the voice is the mountain. Acknowledged cock. Most likely a Frenchman. The face is tense, the features seemed to froze. Ask: "There will be no more passengers?" He just shrugs: who knows? Still strange.

"Why no one today?" The conductor is silent. He is ready to get angry. The conductor leaves, and you think about tomorrow. Sleepy. Talking with no one to read. It remains only to fall asleep. Get up to clean your teeth, you get back in the corridor on the conductor. Again, ask a provocative question: "Something today is not enough people? .." It seems he is alarmed. Turns away. You decide not to worry anymore. In the end, is it bad to buy the most cheap Ticket And nevertheless, to be completely alone in the coupe? And there is no reason to worry. What can happen? The train rushes and rushing, the terrorists will not capture him. Maybe, of course, a hurricane to fall ... suddenly the tree falls on the car, breaks the roof and ask you. True, the probability is small. But just in case you lay on the bottom shelf.

The car is cozy, and you fall into sleep. Somewhere there, on the outskirts of sleep, grind iron. Whether in fact you sleep, or do you sleep ... when the conductor wakes you up, some moment you try to figure out where you are.

Wake up, please leave the train as soon as possible.

The voice is loud, but some colorless. Outside the night window. In the gap between anger and annoyance you are confused asking: "Are we already in Paris?" You say the same loud as the conductor. Actually, it was not a question - you just try to win time: your subconscious wanted to make sure that some kind of mistake happened. Without the shade of sympathy, the conductor declares: "No, to Paris is still far away, but we approach the French border. I can inform you that in France at midnight the general strike begins, so no train will continue. Please prepare for the exit. "

You're confused - as if you have a mud hit you with a fist. You have not really been insulting, you have not yet had time to even get angry, it is also some kind of complaining. You heard that the French are going to strike, but in television news it looked like a preparing for some fun holiday. But here you are told to dump out of the train, and you only think that some kind of ridiculous connection arose between news and your life.

It is necessary, as turned ... what to do now? - You mumble fadedly, trying to call at least some sympathy in the conductor.

If the performance in Paris does not take place, it will fly into the round sum. You mentally click knuckles in the accounts, and a vague anxiety is rolling on you.

More recently, you read about the movement of resistance in South Africa In the era of apartheid. In the middle of the night, the police break into the house, you drag you into the plot, you do not know what's the matter, and you are trying and killed. But now everything is different: the workers declare a strike, and you feel that there should be solidarity. You need to stand shoulder to the shoulder, scream "I am with you!", To smile and move from the train on the night right in the night shirt. Probably there are such unfortunate countries in the world where strikes are simply impossible. People think there: what to deliver the inconvenience to the client, it is better to get happy with the hunger. Another thing is France, where the railway worker feels strong and confident. Yes, it would be nice to join them. True, it is not clear what will happen to the performance in Paris and your fee ...

Somehow, an indictment has a reasonable story in your words: "I need to go to Paris. How do I get there? "

This station will serve a bus to Paris. Here in it and go.

From these words it becomes a little easier in the soul. You will give clothes right on the night shirt, collect the thing and go to the peer. Such as you, several people typed. Probably, at the Central Station and in Alton, they announced a strike - which is why there are so few passengers on the train. Yes, you were not lucky today - you got to the train in Dammatzer. Perhaps about the strike was reported in the evening news. But two recent days You were terribly busy - newspapers did not open, I did not listen to news.

Sowing from the train, the company of unlucky passengers spent on the platform. You are impatiently asking the railwayman's duty: "Where is the bus to Paris?" He indifferently drops: "Go to the waiting room." The name of the station does not say anything to you. There is no street lamp around the total darkness. Houses here seem to be a bit too. There is nothing to do - you go to the waiting room. He is clogged by people. There are a bright light with lamps, the boftage rack and the edges of the tables are cast silver, the backpacks of young travelers with a multi-colored carpet cover the floor, someone branded on the guitar and drive him a song under his nose, someone dorm. Clubs of tobacco smoke float under the ceiling. Probably all these people are waiting for the promised bus. You run through the eyes short menu on the table: Croissant and coffee with milk for breakfast. Suddenly wakes up appetite. Morning has not come yet, you have not been hungry, but one thought about breakfast creates some kind of disveway mood. It is not clear only why everything is so expensive here. So, perhaps, all your francs are pleased - those that changed in the calculation to spend two days in Paris. The waitress approached, looks and smiles. Above what? Didn't they inflate me? Did not seen from the train? Isn't the robbing prices here? Didn't you throw me in this wilderness?! However, you immediately throw your idiotic questions. When you do not know where you are, you are overly suspicious. Is it a thought of inflating so many people right away? One strange: the conductor said that we approach France, and in fact I am already in France. Croissant and coffee are strikingly delicious, and expenses, in the end, you can survive. For an even account, we add tip and stretch the bill of the waitress: "Take away, do not need." She smiles awkwardly, grabs a piece of paper and runs off all his feet. You smile in response: Probably, this is a very unspoken girl, if promoted from such trifles.

But there is no buse. Well, it remains only to gain patience and wait. From time to time, it gives to know the annoying growing in you, and you look at the black window without any sense, jealous of all these peaceful people around you who believe in the appearance of a ghostly bus.

If it is a woman, then a voice with hoarse, perhaps suggests a certain provocation; If the voice belongs to a man, it can be considered clean and ringing. The voice of the honey sweetness of a love date, but you in the answer indifferently throw out: "I wonder when the bus will appear?" And from sweets and romanticism nothing left, no drop. People here do not lose time in vain: they are flirting, they say compliments, they are good and without any bus, but you are not able to divide their enthusiasm. Instead of sailing downstream, entrust the ship to the captain, you are attaching your life to the schedule, you dream of trains that are not embarrassed from the schedule to rush into a fussy future.

But from the darkness heard the sound of motors - the buses arrived. Someone rushed to them, someone began to rise from their places with reluctance and Lenza. You rushed to the first bus and sat down at the front. His headlights bus drilled a tunnel of light in the darkness and moved to it. And here we are on the border. You see the flags - Belgian and French and Ahachi from guess: it means that we drove not in France, but in Belgium. In Belgium they speak French, and there, too, in the turn of the franc. But only Belgian franc is several times cheaper than French ... That's why the waitress so promoted from your generosity when you paid the French bill with her and said "I don't need it." Probably, she began to despise you - only frozen nuvhoroshi behave. You forgot that Belgium is located between Hamburg and Paris, and a considerable fine had to pay for this mistake.

But you are finally in Paris. Taxi lined up waiting for passengers. Jump into the car, call the address. "The road is clogged, I don't know when we will be in place." In this case, the driver sings under his breath and stays in a beautiful mood. The strike is probably having fun. Life freezes, and the city turns into a walking platform.

A few years ago, you were in Marseille during the strike of the garbers. Near Roads - Mountains of garbage. Every day they became higher and higher. Soon, to see the top, I had to do the head, but the strike did not stop everything. Under the summer sun, food waste began to rot. "Well, stench!" - converged in their feelings a variety of people. There was some festive excitement in the air. When the strike ended, the garbage mountains disappeared in the blink of an eye. If these mountains managed to liquidate so quickly, then suspicion arises that someone created the difficulties on purpose.

The chauffeur continues to humble something, showing all his appearance that he was not in a hurry. However, he manages to somehow avoid traffic jams, on sharp turns he demonstrates dexterity and feels on the streets of the city as a fish in the water. He seems to be trusted. You get off on the seat and soon get to the theater - exactly two hours. A large sheet of paper hangs on the doors, the inscription does not say that in view of the universal performance strike is canceled. Here you really have fiercely, but it does not impress any impressions on a heavy metal door. You complain to her: "And to come here on time, I had to suffer so much!" In response - silence. The door does not open. Kick her with all my might. For the first time in the life beat the foot on the door. But the door stores silence and does not even get drowned. You beat on her again and as a result you attack the attention of three boys - they show your finger on you and are spoiled.

What are you rzy? Why not at school? - You shout, but they continue to laugh. Probably, teachers are flying. Or maybe they were given a task in the lesson of social studies to study the features of the strike? Surely they have already explained that there is such a right - the right to strike, maybe they even teach how these strikes organize. At this time, no one should be afraid of anything. From the rage you right on the spot you make flip. Here the boys cease to burn and look at you with obvious respect. Here it is, the power of art! Now you do the wheel - come to yourself.

Then you find the nearest metro station and go to the northern station. Fat, run up to the checkout: "I urgently need to go to Hamburg!" The cashier is indifferent: "The trains do not go."

And what should you do?

The cashier is still impassively explained: "Bet a bus to Brussels and transfer to the local train."

Again in Belgium! All these railway workers are one berry field. Just one night you forgot about the existence of this country. And now in the punishment all his life go back there? But to curse Belgium does not make sense. There is no guilt on Belgium. You just need to assimilate that such a country is and she is not a sorink to you, so that in the first wisdom carelessly smear it.

The bus driver will shock a pack of money and calls passengers: "We go! Go! " As soon as the full interior is taken, so immediately, they say, and we are going. You do not care about it that he earns in human trouble. After all, you have a train ticket. Why should you pay and him? When the strike is over, railway workers will raise the salary. I wonder, and then someone compensate for the loss? After all, you have so little money! Nevertheless, it is necessary to suppress the boiling anger, buy a ticket, take a bus. You decide anything else.

The bus rushes through the fields. The flocks are seen in the distance. Strange: When the cows are tightening the grass, their muzzles are turned in the same direction. You expected to go around the night train, get a decent fee, go back back also night ... And some kind of nonsense came out. It would be better to throw out their ambitious dreams about the field of miracles, to seek here to these cows and pinch along with them.

It suddenly hears the deafening shocking of motors - three small planes appear in the sky. You are aham from surprise. From one of the aircraft - meters in three hundred from the bus - the black smoke, and it begins to fall, nose to the ground. Only you have time to think that for the first time in life you watch the collapse, as an airplane in front of the earth itself suddenly dies the fuselage and vertically sweels into the sky. You are all the chain, the cry is stuck in the throat. Then the second aircraft letters a stream of black smoke and begins to fall. "Wow!" - You think, but in front of the earth itself, he also straightens and goes up cool.

American, sitting ahead, notices: "Looking-ka! Military exercise! "

You sigh with relief. But here rolling the feeling of indignation. Here, the defenders were found! At all broke up, the entertainment was arranged. If they have so much free time, let them threaten us to Brussels.

Finally we in Brussels. This building is the station. At the very least, the driver said. Only no perrone is visible. And electric trains too. Warm in a circle without any intention for some inconceivable mockery designs. Finally, the scoreboard appears. Soothing a little. Only all trains go to London.

What, now only to London can be reached? I barely reached Brussels ... legs are cut off. Yes, trouble does not come alone. As if you were crying, and the tears were not bitter, but sweets - also the bees fell a stiffer you. I suppose, in London you will say: from here only to Dublin can be reached. And the house is farther and farther. But, maybe it is necessary? You're stray artist. Mouth do not spoil, throw out a spoon, sticking sticks, too, throw out. All throw away, say goodbye to everyone - with all your plans, design. Empty - just look. Hurry up - rush people. Look, and this is the Eurostar platform. That is why all trains go to London. Everything, calmed down. However, ... maybe you really smelted to London? Make a hook behind the hook long routeleading home? It would be curious to ride under the strait of Pa de Cala. There, probably, even darker than in a dream.

Second journey

Such a habit of you - to the station far before sending the train. Over time, everything is aggravated, and therefore in old age, probably, in order not to be late for the evening train, you will get out of the house as soon as you will fly to your cheeks. People say: and what are you going so early? At the station, because boredom mortal. What to answer? At the station and really nothing to do. But that is why the fume thoughts leave you, the nerves calm down. Do not do anything - real luxury. Smile yourself and Brody on the platform. Some strange feeling: as if they steal on the ashes. We look at shop windows. I don't want to buy anything. Chocolate, on which and watch disgusting, read the newspaper ... I don't want to drink, the chewing is not necessary too. You do not need anything here. From these thoughts on the heart becomes easier.

The Music Festival in Essingen-on-Duna ended yesterday. This morning, you slowly had breakfast, then looked at the origins of the Danube. It is from here that takes the beginning of this full-flower river. In any case, so they say. You saw some puddle. I wonder how a huge river gets from this puddle? Only the snake knows his way, and only water knows his.

On this night, the plan is: to get to Zurich, from there get to Graz. Tomorrow afternoon in the local theater will take place a rehearsal, in the evening - the general run. Your dance in this project is just a number in the play, on the stage you are only eight minutes, but you need to dock one part on the other. From Essingen - to Zingen, transfer to the train in Zurich, wait there an hour before the night train. In Zurich lives a friend, you have not seen it for a long time. Agreed like this: she will come to the station, and you sit with it in a cafe. You needed to talk to her for a long time, but everything somehow did not happen to get to Zurich. So the transplant in Zurich provides you with a convenient case.

You reached the hotel, where your suitcase lay in the storage chamber. People who came to the festival were drove in the morning, and therefore the streets near the hotel were already empty.

You arrived at the station half an hour before the departure of the train. A earlier train at the same zingen approached the platform. But you did not sit on her. And why not sat down - so still do not know. You could sit on an unplanned train, come early, win time ... But only the railway gods could not like it, and then there would be a catastrophe not provided for by their schedule. May be so. If the catastrophe happens with the train, on which you decided to go from the very beginning, it's already fate, but if a stupid accident happens because you sat on the previous train, all responsibility falls on you. And it is unpleasant. So you spent the train with a look and began to hang out on the platform.

Here on the platform there is a well-dressed state male about fifty-five years old. It feels some kind of uncertainty - a woman in a black velvet costume drags him. A man is dressed too warm, even his face is climbed by a scarf. In his hand a huge road suitcase, a small handbag hangs on the shoulder. In anticipation of parting, a woman without stopping thumbs, the man feared and silent - as if causally caught by the surprise. From the pocket of the coat sticks out the festival program.

The time of departure of the train has already passed, but there is no composition. You start to fantasize. As if a man comes here once every year under the pretext of visiting the festival. As if he secretly spends three days in this town every year and two nights with her mistress, who lives here. Like the vasal and weaver, the stars of Vega and Altair, who are found only once a year. Judging by the expression of the face, the man takes a high position in society. His figure and look at the impression of solidity. Only occasionally eyes begin to radiate anxiety, and it does not go to him. And the walls have ears, he is waiting for exposure. Maybe he is afraid of a protracted trial, divorce, from time to time and turns his head that he drives over. In any case, this is how you naughnthazed.

And there are no trains. Already twenty minutes late. You start worrying, looking for a railway, asking. He is still responsible: "You are right - the train is really delayed."

And how much should I wait?

You see ... I will try to clarify. I do not know if it will be possible ...

The answer does not inspire optimism. But still so better than just hang around on the platform in complete ignorance. It's like a cup of tea to get hunger. Whatever you respond, it still gets calmer. The railway calls somewhere on the phone somewhere, but at that end, no one is suitable, and the railway is silent. You start to twitch. You are so climbing mocking to ask: once the station is located near, then how can the electric train be late for as many as twenty minutes? But you can ask the question only to this person. I don't care what to blow a television speaker bad weather. Before this minute, a man with a woman was absorbed by the process of their farewell, but now they noticed that there is no train. They are suitable closer. The railway service united, it seems to whom it is necessary. At first he spoke quietly, then - as the information received - the voice becomes louder: "What? How could this happen? It's incredible! Can not be!"

Incredibly, but, it can be seen, such is the location of the stars. Locomotive broke, you need to repair it, but there is no spare. The next train arrives in thirty minutes, here on it and please go. But then you definitely be late for the transplant in Zingen. And the train in Zurich too. In full exhaustion, you fall on the bench. And why didn't you sat down on the previous train? Well, I would have to be bored in Zingen. And so you look like an athlete who could not find shoelaces from their sneakers and therefore missed the Olympics. From now on, take itself for the rule to always sit on the very first approached train!

Sorry, please, could you and you throw me? I certainly need to catch the train in Zurich.

Do you, too, to Zurich? - the man says friendly, sticking out of his scarf. Then he suddenly wins the look as if repenting in his own courtesy. But you do not let him come to your senses.

I need to catch the train from Zurich to Graz.

On the face of the woman reflected sympathy: "Yes, it turned out stupid. Of course, I pick you up. "

When you sit in the car, you get a little in itself. No, you do not argue anyone - the "Mercedes" salon is spacious enough, but you think that, do not be you, this couple might be quietly gently twitter with each other ... It was unpleasant to feel that they serve them to hindle. Only once a year, the Milky Way does not disconnect the loving whales with weaver, and here some stranger invaded ...

The woman leads the car focusing, but from time to time looks in the rearview mirror and - probably of politeness - trying to tie a trifle conversation with a passenger in the back seat.

So, it means that you appear at the festival. Are you a pianist?

No, dancer, I was invited to perform with the orchestra. So I seem to dance, but it looks like a little on the classic ballet. On the stage installed fifty with excess sockets, and I turn on and turn off the plugs, the cords of which are connected to the power tools. Depending on my movements, music changes. Here is such a performance.

Sockets? Oh yes, because the topic of the current festival was declared electronics ...

Actually speaking, it would be better if you missed this festival. In essence, the initial idea was to show the record of your dance, but then you were told to come myself. Film film, but even the most successful shooting will not replace a person. A live dog is better than a dead tiger, right? Because of this speech, you have to suffer. What if tomorrow afternoon you won't be in Graz?

You look at the clock - just now the train on Zurich train from Zingen. Well, when will we arrive? You are so waved to ask this question clutched in the steering wheel Tkachkha, but then it turns out that you caress her, and you are silent. She herself may want to never reach the destination. And then their dating with the volapos will become eternal as space. Holy Half is not in the spirit and loses. Perhaps he flashes that because of some nonsense, their mystery ceased to be such.

When I got to Zinger, you, not wanting to be a hindrance of the farewell ceremony of this couple, are going to quickly remove, but the man suddenly drops: "Do not hurry. I am also going to Zurich. So let's go together, and I will try on the way to agree that your train does not go without you. "

They broke up without unnecessary ceremonies. Overcoming one, the man began to behave easier, talked, and your guess of heavenly love turned out to be incorrect. Maybe he really fucked on modern music And every year comes to the festival because? And his old love only prevents him from? He wants to enjoy music, not meetings with the lady. But what should he do? So he suffers.

The train at Zurich has already gone. We must wait for the following. The problem is that you do not have time for a night train. Your fellow traveler consults at the railway service, who advises to sit on the next train and talk to the conductor. He will contact the night train, and if he succeeds to negotiate, sending a train, may be detained.

Study on the platform along with the static volatile waiting for the train. Ask: and you, the case, is not a composer? He happily answers: no, I am a physicist, and my music is my hobby. From the side he seems to be a professor of industrial University of Zurich, but you do not decide to clarify it. Maybe he reluctantly talk about himself the truth. And if there is a question, he will have to drive you. But you would not want this first.

And I didn't like natural disciplines from the school itself, "you change the topic of conversation.

Yes, you are an excellent artist! I have seen your performance! - He says what he did not talk about with his girlfriend. This flatters your pride.

No, what is the actress from me. So, the rolling-box - fly, like a cloud, sailing for the flow.

For us, people are simple, artistic life seems so attractive, but only it looks like a drawn bottle of champagne. You can see something, but drink - so there is no.

Yes, what are you! This is not champagne, but the urine of the frog. As your eyes, you begin to come up, you begin, depict it from myself. It is if you pretend to be a flower from the pictures, but you actually gnaw rice on the grain. If I thought something in physics, I would take up something else.

The man laughed.

The train at Zurich is suitable, you are with a volapos in one compartment - as if old friends. Here were the car and disappeared border guards - like sellers who traded the little bitter. A Swiss conductor appears. Here your companion switches to the local dialect, it begins to express your circumstances. The conductor seems to be nice that they talk to him on his native adveria. Language connects people stronger than money. The conductor leaves, promising to contact the phone with a night train. It seems to you that he will not deceive. Only something he does not return everything. Somewhere wanders. Or maybe he will call something forgotten? Announce that they will soon arrive in Zurich. That's finally the conductor - drooped. "I apologize, called, but did not get through. And your train has already gone. " It seems not to lie. You have darkened in your eyes. So you have to spend the night in Zurich. Even the very first tomorrow's train will not reach Graz to the midday.

Suspicious passengers of your night trains

Specially selected for the japanese Literature Publishing Project (JLPP)

Eko Tavada

List of destination stations:

Journey first IN PARIS!

Second journey In Graz!

Travel third In Zagreb!

Fourth journey In Belgrade!

Travel fifth In Beijing!

Journey sixth In Irkutsk!

Seventh travel journey In Khabarovsk!

Journey eighth In Vienna!

Ninth journey In Basel!

Journey tenth In Hamburg!

Eleventh travel In Amsterdam!

Twelfth journey In Bombay!

Travel thirteenth To the city that is not

Journey first

The station looked somehow strange. Passengers on the platform were frighteningly little. The railway workers ran their eyes, they obviously hid something. Go to someone and ask what happened? Stupid. It remains silently watching what is happening. Some cover of mysteriousness has shown the station, but you are not able to pull it away.

All evening you danced in a tiny institution - next to the Dammator station in Hamburg. In the ears still stands the noise of modern music - as if someone breaks the knee of bamboo, or fearfully triggers a stone bridge with a stick on strength, or rain rinse. The schedule is made up so that on the night train you have time to rehearsals appointed for two hours in Paris. The view begins at seven. How to get up neither the light is dawn and fly by plane, much more pleasant to travel by train. You smugly smile in our own resource.

It is strange that passengers are so few. Even on the always led railway station Alton in Hamburg, almost no one sits on the train, as if inanimate. Maybe the train goes to the depot? With anxiety you look at the scoreboard on the platform: No, everything is right, the destination station is Paris. In the coupe on the six - only you. You can relax. Sorry, I forgot to buy a newspaper. The train begins. After the stop at the Central Station, Hamburg was so nobody joined you.

The sound of steps is heard here. This is the conductor - for a ticket and passport. Red shaped cap looks on the scallop, the voice is the mountain. Acknowledged cock. Most likely a Frenchman. The face is tense, the features seemed to froze. Ask: "There will be no more passengers?" He just shrugs: who knows? Still strange.

"Why no one today?" The conductor is silent. He is ready to get angry. The conductor leaves, and you think about tomorrow. Sleepy. Talking with no one to read. It remains only to fall asleep. Get up to clean your teeth, you get back in the corridor on the conductor. Again, ask a provocative question: "Something today is not enough people? .." It seems he is alarmed. Turns away. You decide not to worry anymore. In the end, is it bad to buy the cheapest ticket and nevertheless to be in the compartment completely alone? And there is no reason to worry. What can happen? The train rushes and rushing, the terrorists will not capture him. Maybe, of course, a hurricane to fall ... suddenly the tree falls on the car, breaks the roof and ask you. True, the probability is small. But just in case you lay on the bottom shelf.

The car is cozy, and you fall into sleep. Somewhere there, on the outskirts of sleep, grind iron. Whether in fact you sleep, or do you sleep ... when the conductor wakes you up, some moment you try to figure out where you are.

Wake up, please leave the train as soon as possible.

The voice is loud, but some colorless. Outside the night window. In the gap between anger and annoyance you are confused asking: "Are we already in Paris?" You say the same loud as the conductor. Actually, it was not a question - you just try to win time: your subconscious wanted to make sure that some kind of mistake happened. Without the shade of sympathy, the conductor declares: "No, to Paris is still far away, but we approach the French border. I can inform you that in France at midnight the general strike begins, so no train will continue. Please prepare for the exit. "

You're confused - as if you have a mud hit you with a fist. You have not really been insulting, you have not yet had time to even get angry, it is also some kind of complaining. You heard that the French are going to strike, but in television news it looked like a preparing for some fun holiday. But here you are told to dump out of the train, and you only think that some kind of ridiculous connection arose between news and your life.

It is necessary, as turned ... what to do now? - You mumble fadedly, trying to call at least some sympathy in the conductor.

If the performance in Paris does not take place, it will fly into the round sum. You mentally click knuckles in the accounts, and a vague anxiety is rolling on you.

More recently, you read about the movement of resistance in South Africa in the era of apartheid. In the middle of the night, the police break into the house, you drag you into the plot, you do not know what's the matter, and you are trying and killed. But now everything is different: the workers declare a strike, and you feel that there should be solidarity. You need to stand shoulder to the shoulder, scream "I am with you!", To smile and move from the train on the night right in the night shirt. Probably there are such unfortunate countries in the world where strikes are simply impossible. People think there: what to deliver the inconvenience to the client, it is better to get happy with the hunger. Another thing is France, where the railway worker feels strong and confident. Yes, it would be nice to join them. True, it is not clear what will happen to the performance in Paris and your fee ...

Somehow, an indictment has a reasonable story in your words: "I need to go to Paris. How do I get there? "

This station will serve a bus to Paris. Here in it and go.

From these words it becomes a little easier in the soul. You will give clothes right on the night shirt, collect the thing and go to the peer. Such as you, several people typed. Probably, at the Central Station and in Alton, they announced a strike - which is why there are so few passengers on the train. Yes, you were not lucky today - you got to the train in Dammatzer. Perhaps about the strike was reported in the evening news. But the last two days you were terribly busy - the newspapers did not open, the news did not listen.

Sowing from the train, the company of unlucky passengers spent on the platform. You are impatiently asking the railwayman's duty: "Where is the bus to Paris?" He indifferently drops: "Go to the waiting room." The name of the station does not say anything to you. There is no street lamp around the total darkness. Houses here seem to be a bit too. There is nothing to do - you go to the waiting room. He is clogged by people. There are a bright light with lamps, the boftage rack and the edges of the tables are cast silver, the backpacks of young travelers with a multi-colored carpet cover the floor, someone branded on the guitar and drive him a song under his nose, someone dorm. Clubs of tobacco smoke float under the ceiling. Probably all these people are waiting for the promised bus. You run through the eyes short menu on the table: Croissant and coffee with milk for breakfast. Suddenly wakes up appetite. Morning has not come yet, you have not been hungry, but one thought about breakfast creates some kind of disveway mood. It is not clear only why everything is so expensive here. So, perhaps, all your francs are pleased - those that changed in the calculation to spend two days in Paris. The waitress approached, looks and smiles. Above what? Didn't they inflate me? Did not seen from the train? Isn't the robbing prices here? Didn't you throw me in this wilderness?! However, you immediately throw your idiotic questions. When you do not know where you are, you are overly suspicious. Is it a thought of inflating so many people right away? One strange: the conductor said that we approach France, and in fact I am already in France. Croissant and coffee are strikingly delicious, and expenses, in the end, you can survive. For an even account, we add tip and stretch the bill of the waitress: "Take away, do not need." She smiles awkwardly, grabs a piece of paper and runs off all his feet. You smile in response: Probably, this is a very unspoken girl, if promoted from such trifles.

But there is no buse. Well, it remains only to gain patience and wait. From time to time, it gives to know the annoying growing in you, and you look at the black window without any sense, jealous of all these peaceful people around you who believe in the appearance of a ghostly bus.

Here, from somewhere on the side floats a beautiful face - whether a man, or a woman. "You seem to be shown on TV. You, by chance, not a pianist? "

Specially selected for the japanese Literature Publishing Project (JLPP)

Eko Tavada

List of destination stations:

Journey firstIN PARIS!

Second journeyIn Graz!

Travel thirdIn Zagreb!

Fourth journeyIn Belgrade!

Travel fifthIn Beijing!

Journey sixthIn Irkutsk!

Seventh travel journeyIn Khabarovsk!

Journey eighthIn Vienna!

Ninth journeyIn Basel!

Journey tenthIn Hamburg!

Eleventh travelIn Amsterdam!

Twelfth journeyIn Bombay!

Travel thirteenthTo the city that is not

Journey first

The station looked somehow strange. Passengers on the platform were frighteningly little. The railway workers ran their eyes, they obviously hid something. Go to someone and ask what happened? Stupid. It remains silently watching what is happening. Some cover of mysteriousness has shown the station, but you are not able to pull it away.

All evening you danced in a tiny institution - next to the Dammator station in Hamburg. In the ears still stands the noise of modern music - as if someone breaks the knee of bamboo, or fearfully triggers a stone bridge with a stick on strength, or rain rinse. The schedule is made up so that on the night train you have time to rehearsals appointed for two hours in Paris. The view begins at seven. How to get up neither the light is dawn and fly by plane, much more pleasant to travel by train. You smugly smile in our own resource.

It is strange that passengers are so few. Even on the always led railway station Alton in Hamburg, almost no one sits on the train, as if inanimate. Maybe the train goes to the depot? With anxiety you look at the scoreboard on the platform: No, everything is right, the destination station is Paris. In the coupe on the six - only you. You can relax. Sorry, I forgot to buy a newspaper. The train begins. After the stop at the Central Station, Hamburg was so nobody joined you.

The sound of steps is heard here. This is the conductor - for a ticket and passport. Red shaped cap looks on the scallop, the voice is the mountain. Acknowledged cock. Most likely a Frenchman. The face is tense, the features seemed to froze. Ask: "There will be no more passengers?" He just shrugs: who knows? Still strange.

"Why no one today?" The conductor is silent. He is ready to get angry. The conductor leaves, and you think about tomorrow. Sleepy. Talking with no one to read. It remains only to fall asleep. Get up to clean your teeth, you get back in the corridor on the conductor. Again, ask a provocative question: "Something today is not enough people? .." It seems he is alarmed. Turns away. You decide not to worry anymore. In the end, is it bad to buy the cheapest ticket and nevertheless to be in the compartment completely alone? And there is no reason to worry. What can happen? The train rushes and rushing, the terrorists will not capture him. Maybe, of course, a hurricane to fall ... suddenly the tree falls on the car, breaks the roof and ask you. True, the probability is small. But just in case you lay on the bottom shelf.

The car is cozy, and you fall into sleep. Somewhere there, on the outskirts of sleep, grind iron. Whether in fact you sleep, or do you sleep ... when the conductor wakes you up, some moment you try to figure out where you are.

Wake up, please leave the train as soon as possible.

The voice is loud, but some colorless. Outside the night window. In the gap between anger and annoyance you are confused asking: "Are we already in Paris?" You say the same loud as the conductor. Actually, it was not a question - you just try to win time: your subconscious wanted to make sure that some kind of mistake happened. Without the shade of sympathy, the conductor declares: "No, to Paris is still far away, but we approach the French border. I can inform you that in France at midnight the general strike begins, so no train will continue. Please prepare for the exit. "

You're confused - as if you have a mud hit you with a fist. You have not really been insulting, you have not yet had time to even get angry, it is also some kind of complaining. You heard that the French are going to strike, but in television news it looked like a preparing for some fun holiday. But here you are told to dump out of the train, and you only think that some kind of ridiculous connection arose between news and your life.

It is necessary, as turned ... what to do now? - You mumble fadedly, trying to call at least some sympathy in the conductor.

If the performance in Paris does not take place, it will fly into the round sum. You mentally click knuckles in the accounts, and a vague anxiety is rolling on you.

More recently, you read about the movement of resistance in South Africa in the era of apartheid. In the middle of the night, the police break into the house, you drag you into the plot, you do not know what's the matter, and you are trying and killed. But now everything is different: the workers declare a strike, and you feel that there should be solidarity. You need to stand shoulder to the shoulder, scream "I am with you!", To smile and move from the train on the night right in the night shirt. Probably there are such unfortunate countries in the world where strikes are simply impossible. People think there: what to deliver the inconvenience to the client, it is better to get happy with the hunger. Another thing is France, where the railway worker feels strong and confident. Yes, it would be nice to join them. True, it is not clear what will happen to the performance in Paris and your fee ...

Somehow, an indictment has a reasonable story in your words: "I need to go to Paris. How do I get there? "

This station will serve a bus to Paris. Here in it and go.

From these words it becomes a little easier in the soul. You will give clothes right on the night shirt, collect the thing and go to the peer. Such as you, several people typed. Probably, at the Central Station and in Alton, they announced a strike - which is why there are so few passengers on the train. Yes, you were not lucky today - you got to the train in Dammatzer. Perhaps about the strike was reported in the evening news. But the last two days you were terribly busy - the newspapers did not open, the news did not listen.

Sowing from the train, the company of unlucky passengers spent on the platform. You are impatiently asking the railwayman's duty: "Where is the bus to Paris?" He indifferently drops: "Go to the waiting room." The name of the station does not say anything to you. There is no street lamp around the total darkness. Houses here seem to be a bit too. There is nothing to do - you go to the waiting room. He is clogged by people. There are a bright light with lamps, the boftage rack and the edges of the tables are cast silver, the backpacks of young travelers with a multi-colored carpet cover the floor, someone branded on the guitar and drive him a song under his nose, someone dorm. Clubs of tobacco smoke float under the ceiling. Probably all these people are waiting for the promised bus. You run through the eyes short menu on the table: Croissant and coffee with milk for breakfast. Suddenly wakes up appetite. Morning has not come yet, you have not been hungry, but one thought about breakfast creates some kind of disveway mood. It is not clear only why everything is so expensive here. So, perhaps, all your francs are pleased - those that changed in the calculation to spend two days in Paris. The waitress approached, looks and smiles. Above what? Didn't they inflate me? Did not seen from the train? Isn't the robbing prices here? Didn't you throw me in this wilderness?! However, you immediately throw your idiotic questions. When you do not know where you are, you are overly suspicious. Is it a thought of inflating so many people right away? One strange: the conductor said that we approach France, and in fact I am already in France. Croissant and coffee are strikingly delicious, and expenses, in the end, you can survive. For an even account, we add tip and stretch the bill of the waitress: "Take away, do not need." She smiles awkwardly, grabs a piece of paper and runs off all his feet. You smile in response: Probably, this is a very unspoken girl, if promoted from such trifles.