Mom in town

The early morning call by my mom made me get up. She was to enter the town. I did my exercises, make-up and all other morning routine. I was waiting for her at the entrance hall by the aquarium. Fast and easy were happened to be at my room where she could evaluate the coziness I made. Delicious regular breakfast with hometown sweets. There were some new jars at the fringe. Though I looked fresh my manners were closed and awkward.

The way to the visa center we were talking about all different minor things. The path led by Google wasn’t right because of the fence. Mom amicably asked the cleaner and he gaily told us everything. The yard of the centers was typical for any public service. The polite man at the entrance helped us to figure out what to do in the process which was simple and therefore not so magical as British one. My mind blurred away and I didn’t understand anything. Thank God, mom organised all that stuff – mine responsibility is the cultural program and logistic. So we were photographed (really bad), fingerprinted (not impressive). As for me that didn’t have such special spirit as real consulates have (that was just the visa centre).

We went out with some lightness by done task. As for me I felt the hardship inside. Some terrible inner pain which reason was in her desire to pay for my study and continue all this tiresome stuff. I kept silence while we went through the grey district to the metro station.

During the way we decided to go away at the center and visit my favorite cafe. The exit wasn’t right but for some reason we found the other cafe of that label. That was a place, menu and time I like mostly. The spirit of young and fresh center with deep background. We both took the cream soups and I added the cake, she added the Quiche. That was as noisy and vital as usual. I could feel so free and easy to think up ideas and talk about positive things like Czech beer, dreams coming true and the historical spirit of the central district – the only place where Moscow is actually Moscow. The conversation was like close friends’ meeting at the coffee shop. Evidently I didn’t want to finish that, but we had to. For some short moments of drinking black tea with tasty curd pancake I even could feel happiness. While we were waiting for a bus she noticed the way people wear here. It totally depends on the district. 8bf5ebfd6a0b20423456a7f50eb335e1

At the station it turned out that the next bus was at six this is why she decided to put me on the bus and wait at the train station. That was cold and uncomfortable. She said I looked sad, so I was. I didn’t want to go to my district, to the hostel, to the institute, to the tasks, to all those people. She offered to buy a ticket and ride with her. But I took a bus and moved to the North with some music. En route it turned out to be the accident with three cars. As we stopped I decided to go to the hostel instead of the meaningless lessons and went though the park.

Those were stones inside my breast, stones of low self-esteem, doubts and fear. I’m twenty-two and I don’t feel like I know who am I. Does anybody know for sure at all?

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