I can’t for the fuck of me understand Aksinya. One moment she’s bald and the next she wears blue hair. One moment she is demure and sad and nothing will cheer her up, than she is the tumult of the falls and starts to fight.
That day we sat on a bench in broad daylight on Kozlov St., near the Krushev slum where our buddy Vakunja dwells. We drank, we smoked and played cards. It is best to drink at broad daylight in the most crowded places. Much less likely that the cops get you.
Aksinya is talented. She draws, writes stories, plays instruments. Her mouth is puckered. I gave her my T-shirt with the inscription: “A TT-30 is better than judo or karate.”
Eventually I went to take a leak to the ravine and met Professor Leon. Talked to him for a while. Haven’t seen him for ages. He is so old and drunk. I once saw him on the porch of a bookstore absolutely stoned. I shouted: Leon! He turned sharply but could not keep the balance and fell. His pants went down revealing a pink butt. A fat woman passing by laughed at the sight so much that her bra burst. Professor Leon is more dead than alive nowadays but he still teaches at the university. It would be silly not to borrow one hundred rubles and a drink from such a drunk, I thought.
So me and Aksinya grabbed another vodka. We drank on Kozlov St. and played cards more and then went to visit the businessman Pasha. He dwells not far off, on Preobrajenskoe. Professor Leon’s just back from Paris and drunk as a lord. “Well, Paris…” he repeats now and then, sitting naked on a dismantled bed among dirty underwear. When he finally fell asleep, we left the place with Paris wine.
Andrew, Aksinya’s boyfriend was constantly calling her but she called him an asshole and hung up. She sorta loved him all the same, though this dickhead never worked and drank like a fish. He is an unshaven, overgrown, neglected former programmer. As for Aksinya, she is no good, mind you. She is an unbeaten bitch, a wild girl on French wine, more violent than judo or karate.