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- Road to Home In the bus,Lev chose a seat behind and he rolled up,with his eyes fixed on the ground that he was letting behind:sunflowers fields burnt by drying wind,pig farms,rivers and wild garlic that was growing green on the edge of the road. Lev was wearing a leather jacket,jeans and a leather cap too much sat on his eyes,and his attractive face had grey tones because of smoking,and he was holding tight in his hands an old red cotton handkerchief and a folded package of Russian cigarettes.He was turning forty-three soon. After a few miles,while the sun was rising,Lev took out a cigarette and he put it between his lips,and the woman who was sitting next to him,a chubby person,silent,,with her face full of moles like some mud drops,said quickly: "Excuse me,but you cannot smoke in the bus." Lev has known that,he had known before,he has tried to prepare himself mentally for the long agony of this fact.But even a cigarette was like a fellow for him-something to catch at,something that has made him a promise-and all he could do in that moment was to approve it,just to show her that he heard what she said,to assure her he won't make any problems:because they will have to stay next to each other for fifty hours or more,with their separate dreams and pains,like a married couple hearing their snores and smelling the food that each of them had brought ,or noticing how much they are afraid of themselves,or making short forays in conversation.And then,later,when they will get in London,probably they will separate without a word or look,passing into a rainy morning,each of them alone and starting a new life.December 24, 201320

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