Very bad English / Очень плохой English. Яна Варшавская

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the scenes said that all this was only a preview or a delayed disaster, a rehearsal… Then I saw myself walking around Belgrade downtown. Old trams overtook me, ringing when making a turn. I was going to the hotel, but instead I found myself in a women's shoe store.

      I looked around, but in vain. There were no other shoes except black, of different style.

      Then I wandered along the cobblestones until I ended up in Izmailovo. I bought hot wings at KFC and beer in a pavilion next to the hotel, and went to my room…

      Number 2323.

      Although it was a dream, before waking up, I thought: «What the hell!»

      At home, quickly collecting my travel bag, I went down to the first floor and asked the guard to keep all my correspondence until I return, if there would be one.

      «Have a good rest, Tanya! You are so pale!» Said Aunt Zoe, our permanent guard.

      Time passed quickly in Moscow, and at night I had a flight to Croatia.

      Boeing 737, about 180 passengers. At the reception, I asked for the 14th or 15th row. I love when the distance between the seats is greater, after all, it's near to emergency exit. We took off fine, gained altitude, and the whole flight went well.

      We flew up to Dubrovnik. The captain announced that the plane was completely ready for a descent…

      We were going down, and I could swear I already saw the tops of the trees and the signal lights of the landing strip, when suddenly the plane soared up into the sky again. The city flashed invitingly with the lights of high houses and a dotted line of bright lanterns that seemed to be curves of expressways.

      Our plane, desperately flapping its wings, tried to cope with strong gusts of wind and, making another circle, began to descend again, but this time directly to the lane. When the chassis touched the ground, I felt the seat belt tighten, and leaned forward…

      How many times have I said prayers while we were landing and before the engines stopped?

      I said the Lord's prayer probably a hundred times, and another hundred was a prayer to the Virgin… I think that no one on board even thought about it.

      I prayed for everyone. I always feel when the situation is abnormal… For some reason, I am «fortunate» in this sort of things.

      «Dear passengers, this is board commander. We landed at the airport of Dubrovnik. The weather is great, plus 26 degrees. I wish you a pleasant stay and thank you for using the services of our airline. The crew hopes that in the future you will choose our company…»

      «Yeah!..»

      «Ladies and Gentlemen, we are…» the commander continued his greeting in other language.

      I felt a thin stream of icy sweat on my spine. Heck! It seems I crossed the line again!

      I took a taxi and drove up to the hotel, settled in the room…

      My brain was gone! I looked out and stared at the door.

      Number 2323.

      What could I say? Doremi was right, there are no accidents, everything in the world is played out on notes!

      That's it. I need to distract myself… I turned on the TV. There was news…

      When I left the shower, the correspondent shared the latest news about the crash of a Boeing 737 over the Alps a few hours ago…

      I froze, unable to move. Doremi was right again! The mirror theory worked! I begged for life for the passengers of our Boeing, but the boomerang of death was launched and hit another plane… Perhaps there was not a single person who could fight the curse so fiercely, constantly turning to God?

      Or I was very lucky today…

      I went down to the bar and ordered coffee with cognac. Then I dialed Eva's number…

      Eva's diary:

      June 23, 2002.

      Sunday.

      Mom says medical school is not for me.

      And since Taska and I were born on April 23, we are obliged to write poetry and study philology…

      So what if Shakespeare was born on April 23?[3]

      Poems… Poetry is not profitable! I don't think you can earn a living with poetry, rather the opposite…: —))

      Although Taska writes something and then hides it, since she was a child!

      That is nonsense!

      Chapter 8

      Morning Always Comes of a Sudden…

      I went up to my room and called Eva's home, because her mobile phone was unavailable:

      «Hello…»

      «Is Eva at home?» I asked, without any hope.

      «No. She is with the children at the rink today. Will be in a couple of hours. Tanyusha, is that you?» answered Igor, Eva's husband, in his most casual voice.

      And again I was indignant… How can one be so restrained with the occupation he had? If I were a pathologist, I would enjoy every manifestation of life… Although, probably, every profession has its own distortions.

      «That's me.»

      «Why so gloomy, dear?» He asked.

      «Listen, Igor Leonidovich, I'm really sick. I don't even know whether to tell you or to leave it…»

      «Leave it. I'm telling you! Yes, and go to bed. You know, my girl, morning is wiser than the evening!»

      Igor seemed to be smiling. I smiled at him too.

      But no! I just tried to smile back, but my strength somehow suddenly left me. I slowly walked over to the mirror and removed the hoop earrings.

      Then I pulled off my jeans and threw a worn top. I fluffed the pillow and fell asleep.

      The last thought that flickered in my blurred mind was: «Thank God I'm alive!»

      Morning always comes of a sudden…

      First there is night, night and darkness… And suddenly, cannonades of sounds explode at once: the sound of a tram, the howling of the wind, the rustle of car tires… The head is buzzing, but you can raise it.

      God, how could I become so limp! I opened the window. Morning burst into my room with a cascade of unusual sounds and smells. It smelled of sea and flowers. An amazing cocktail of incredible freshness and triumph of nature.

      It seemed that the Universe had long ago forgiven me for yesterday's weakness and was already preparing the most fantastic adventures. I only had to show a hint of interest. But…

      I went to the mirror.

      The mirror obviously flattered me: no dark circles

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<p>3</p>

The greatest English writer, William Shakespeare, was born on April 23, 1564, and died on April 23, 1616. Most of his works are known from his first collected works, published in 1623 (his wife Anna died the same year). Another interesting detail: in 1610, when the first edition and the canonical bible of King James appeared, Shakespeare was 46 (23 + 23) years old. The 46th word of the 46th Psalm in it was shake, and the 46th word from the end of the Psalm was spear…