Page 68 - Litteratteur Redefining World December issue
P. 68

Litterateur redefining world                      December 2020




















                                       The Book of Marquez



                                           SHERZOD ARTIKOV





           I love October. There is more wind and rain in October. The weather is often cloudy.

           Yellow leaves rustle under your feet, and a leaf fall brings peace and comfort to your
           heart.


           Yesterday  it  was  windy,  but  today  it  rained.  By  evening,  though  it  was  quiet,  the
           bitterness  that  came  from  the  ground,  and  its  wet  smell  was  still  lingering  in  my
           breath.  In  the  evening,  the  temperature  dropped  very  low,  so  I  cooled  down  on  the
           balcony. Then I went inside.


           In  my  cozy  room  there  was  a  long  and  large  bookshelf.  I  went  up  to  it  and  for  a
           moment thought about what to do. I was not inclined to read. My head hurt and my
           heart was beating. It is unlikely that a book would help in such a situation.


           When I fell down on a chair, I remembered again that Nafeesa had not come for the
           book. She took Marques's "One hundred years of solitude" exactly ten days ago. Since
           then, she has not been seen.


           As time passed, the headache increased. I took a medicine and drank a freshly brewed
           bitter coffee in addition. After that, I started walking back and forth in the room.



           ...In the house across  the street  from me  lived a Russian old woman. She died two
           months ago, and Nafeesa and her family moved into her apartment. The old woman's
           son, who lived abroad, sold the house to them. Nafisa's father was military, worked in
           the military part of the city, and she herself, if I am not mistaken, taught English at
           school.


           She  must  have  heard  from  her  neighbors  that  I  have  a  private  library.  She  herself
           never  asked  about  it.  When  she  met  me  in  the  street,  she  just  nodded  to  greet  me,
           without saying anything, it was probably inconvenient to ask for something.





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