Our party Vladdi, with his story .
now I know
As a child I loved to breathe the old books . Sometimes I will sit in the corner of the room , covered with a warm blanket , and instead of having to read - feed inexplicable flavor of joy. Fall outside the window , howling winds, large drops of rain beat a rhythm on the glass , but it's there , somewhere far away ... And here is a little creaking chair , fur tunic cheeks and smell ... The smell ...
Later I once brought into the house things like peer past. Sometimes, finding coins, pieces of pottery sometimes , rarely icons , once confined to the expected events. All eagerly piled into a small cardboard box and wondered : "soon to be new arrivals ? '. When dating with the neighborhood kids smiling broadly , screwed up his eyes and asked to tell what they collect. Even then I was a collector , unconscious but ardent admirer of antiquity.
As the years passed , the carton parents have replaced personal table and allowed to take a few shelves for my hobbies . A simple gesture I took it as a good gift.
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student, I first felt the taste of your own money. Or rather their lack of taste , amorphous and minor destiny to be a means of payment. I have not been saving just used them after many hours spent in the shop of antiques. I was interested to make friends with the seller of the store, so old that my grandfather is successfully combined with the objects of another era. In my first visit and purchase , he was silent and silently allow goods to leave, but once out of the blue old man asked a simple question:
- Why did you buy these things ?
At the moment I started, but almost immediately explained:
- I like to collect the echoes of the past centuries ...
- Why ? - He asked again .
Reply proved much harder than expected . I could not find the cause of his passion . Just like the case and everything. So confused as like the sun or the sky , and sometimes humans.
- So do you feel different ... - intervened voice seller in my thoughts .
- Excuse me?
- Things - old man said slowly , - the forgotten and the suspension. Sometimes, though new , but more often mutilated time , why they are losing the visual appeal , still beckon , and fall in love with others?
- I do not know - I frankly .
Grandpa playfully rose from his chair and ran to the tables , grabbed a few items and laid before me a book , lip accordion and a miniature icon of St. Nicholas :
- What do you see ? - He asked himself .
- Print Edition , a music thing , scapular . All the old stuff ...
- What do you see ? - The old man interrupted me .
Once again, I felt uncomfortable and looked down modestly .
- All you need to think differently . You called accordion . Yes, it is true , the two plates , between ten steel tabs on the breath, exhale ten , thing thirties, is a citizen of the USSR. But think about how much it was . What songs were used in this instrument , first winding under rapid construction empire, then extremely sad when the enemy at full speed was selected to the capital , and again after the swift and lofty . The book ? Turgenev's novel " On the eve of " 1900 edition. But again, remember to routine . Imagine how a young man from the beginning of the new century and falls in love with a lady finds a way to read the feelings of such a topic of interest to him . Imagine how he smartly turns the pages , sometimes red and draws parallels between the scenario of the work and its own fledgling fate. Icon ? How can it be ? But think better , how many travelers it is guarded on the road and how often did not allow the end to lose the presence of high spirit ...
I clearly presented each picture painted by the seller, and the first time something incredible enveloped my consciousness :
- Do you feel? - Smiling, asked the seller - you are not just a customer , and witnessed several stories , you have got to each of them, took a piece of the soul , the life of each item missed by myself ...
- Yes , I understand - I said , looking into the eyes of an old man young .
We said goodbye , and later met again several times , but no meeting has not appeared more amazing than the one that I wanted to tell .
Today, I still desire to be led by a collector. I am pleased to acquire reminder of antiquity, lay them on the shelves, store in a desk . But when I take a subject , then imagine his life , and then my eyes become rampant and immortal, like an old man on that unforgettable day ...