Гриша Куква
(c) Arthur Poghosyan

Grisha Kukva

Arthur Poghosyan

Arthur Poghosyan

Copyright © 2025 by Grisha Kukva

All Rights Reserved

First Digital Publication April 2025

Cover Design by Finnialla Wright

Published by PULP Literary Magazine

pulplitmag.com

Kukva G.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan: short story. – Saint-Petersburg, 2024.

This book introduces the reader to a great work of world-famous Russian writer.

Grisha Kukva (born March 12, 1996) already left a tremendous legacy in literature: about a hundred volumes of prose, dramaturgy, poems, critical articles, and essays – all of these were never written. But still – he is a legend. Why?

Famous cap, a bib with a cherry (which became his «business card»), and delicate skin. Kukva didn’t know yet about his future hard twists and turns of fate which life has prepared for him. 19 assassination attempts, 7 deaths, 2 children, 15

divorces without even one wedding, 2 life sentences, 8 poisonings by eating a noodle, an interstellar expedition, life in Budapest, purchase of a Czechoslovak furniture wall – this is a small list of events happened in Kukva’s life. For the first introduction, his cult novel «(c) Arthur Poghosyan» fits perfectly.

© Kukva’s mom, preamble, 2024.

Who is Arthur Poghosyan?

An old man? A legend? A little boy? Or just a man on his retire? Finally, Argentina's government found his rare interview he gave to «The World»

magazine:

– My name is Arthur Poghosyan. I'm a small businessman.

After those words, interview accidentally has broken down…

According to rumors, Arthur Poghosyan is known as a human with supernatural and super-regenerative abilities. He hunts every weekend, but only for birds. He has an ancient military collection and became a frequent guest of deluxe-class auctions in western Sicily. He is excellently skilled in Aikido, but there are some suspicions of prostatitis. Anyway, who possesses any information about personality and history of Arthur Poghosyan, kindly asking to contact Contact-Manager.

(c) Contact-Manager.

Contact-Manager #1

My name is Contact-Manager. I’m here to tell you a story how I met Arthur Poghosyan. Once, I gave up on women. Who else did it – knows: as soon as you decide to give up on them, women furiously try to pull you back into the market of relationships. Long story short: they crave to be craved. And when you are officially refusing to feed their minds by the bubbling of your testosterone, their attention to you becomes unavoidable.

I haven't had sex for about 2 years. After serving in the army, I thought maybe the time had come. Next evening, I bought a ticket from Saint-Petersburg to Moscow and had a journey by train where I was surrounded by 3 young chicks. Next thing I remember was a concert, where many of other women talked to me. One of them sat down pretty close to me, and after this concert we had a dinner

at the bar. I gave her my scarf as a gift and put her on my lap. She spoke to me gently:

– There will be no sex.

I called her a taxi and never saw her again.

To be more precisely I hadn't seen her for a little while. Spring holidays were coming. The girl with my scarf texted me. She wanted to visit me and spend spring holidays together, also to bring me back my scarf. I was in need to be prepared quickly, therefore I bought a blanket for covering while sleeping, a new pillow, slippers for walking, towel for hands, towel for feet, hangers for clothes to hang them, a hair dryer, an iron, cutting board for bread & cheese – there were plenty of things which I never used at my samurai's palace. But while we will be together, we might need some of this stuff.

I bought all these things and waited for her to come over. The closer her visit was, the stronger became my desire of fuck… Plenty of women think that men are just animals which only dream about sex. They are right. I was just a guy who wanted to cut a good piece of a girl's ass for himself. So, holidays began and girl has really arrived. This evening I kindly asked her where she was planning to spend this night.

– I'll stay at my aunt's place.

Hell, no. Turn on the saddest classical music. The violin of the greatest tragedy was erasing all my dreams about hugs and kisses tonight. Indeed, I was an animal.

Just like all others were. I did my best with this thing about giving up on women, so how the fuck this aunt occurred? At the old times, giving up on women was a very smart way to catch more female's attention. Unfortunately, I realized: it wasn't working anymore.

After seeing girl home, I took a drive to mine by trolleybus. The scarf she gave me didn't even have her odor. What a shame. While sitting in trolleybus I watched the screen where war heroes were displayed.

One of them was Eugenie Sky – 17 years old girl, she was working at the Nazi’s canteen and poisoned the soup, as a result more than 100 soldiers were dead.

Killers are always becoming heroes during the war. Plus, the same named girl broke my heart once.

I should say that every year I receive messages with pictures «Happy Holiday!»

or another shit with all the wishes and nice words like «love», «joy», «wealth»

which have nothing in common with reality I live in. Real life, yes? Sometimes it can be a bit unpleasant, so you can escape from it to the cinema, games, religion, sex, patriotic feelings and especially holidays. Which allow people to sit down at the table and pour the glasses with the second chance, with an opportunity to live, an opportunity to look out of the kitchen’s window, to laugh.

I couldn't use such services. Couldn’t trust these holidays. Filling the glasses were more like a betrayal. I didn't want to deal with illusions. That's why I came to a great grey nowhere, until I got married. We worked both, me as an engineer, and she was a writer. Soon, we bought the first car. I taught her how to drive when the truck faced us. The next thing I remember, I was crawling out of car and heard her final words: «Beware the yellow snow».

I felt guilty with not even a scratch on me, realizing my wife has gone. It was the moment when I was going through her stuff and found a letter by Arthur Poghosyan. I thought I knew every friend of her, but couldn't remember his name. Of course, very soon I found nothing in my pocket to pay for apartments, because every penny went to a glass. I moved to my friends' flat, but soon couldn't bother their cozy life by my presence and left without a word. I walked around cathedrals and cemeteries, slept there. Later friends found me and brought to life again. First things first, so I had to find a job. So, I hooked an eye on a contact-manager vacancy, offered by the man named Arthur Poghosyan.

Young guy barely older than me. He seemed sharp, extravagant. It was the first time I saw him. And it was unpleasant, even embarrassing. I was trying to talk about his letter I found through my wife's stuff. But he didn’t want to hear about that, then all of a sudden, he spat at me while I was talking. That damn spit hit me right in my throat, which has almost sent me after my wife.

Anyway, he left me a pager during our interview, which I carried in the back pocket, thinking about maybe I could catch him again to ask a few questions. But Arthur Poghosyan disappeared as accidentally as he came. It took a while to get me a job and rent another apartments. The world continued to stay the same as it was, and my life was alright. Searching for Arthur Poghosyan haven't brought any results yet. Soon, the second wave of melancholy came over me. I was that close to bankruptcy and starting to drink again, and also (suddenly) to kill myself. I didn't want to cry neither scream, therefore after working I was running circles on a football field. I set myself an aim: if I am able to finish one thousand laps, then I will give myself a permission to die. While not achieving required results, I decided to reduce the killing permission to one hundred laps which were equal to forty kilometers. Next Saturday & Sunday I dedicated myself to completing it. I had nothing to lose, even if I had… I ran more than one day and finally did it – green light. Now I had to find out how to finish myself. Actually, ten or fifteen laps more would make me dead already.

How strange but whole next week I went to work as usual, ate cereals for breakfast, had lunch at cafe, took myself home by subway, fell asleep and woke up. For some reasons I changed my mind. I wanted to live. And one of those days with cereals, job and subway… The pager beeped. There were digital numbers that looked like coordinates. According to the map, that place was at

«Tavrichesky» garden near one famous writer’s memorial. Under his right foot was lying a yellow parchment, which was similar to the letter I once found among my wife's stuff. Beyond any doubt, it had to be Arthur Poghosyan.

Fate

Fate and its place in human’s life worried the greatest minds for a while. This fate concept also hasn't ennobled the grey color of my everyday life by sterility of its absence. That's why me and my new Contact-Manager had a plan to face a challenge, according to which I will spend almost 37 years in complete isolation, having in my pocket only «Parliament Aqua» cigarettes and gingerbread. I ate my gingerbread much earlier before being isolated while title «Impotence» on cigarettes attracted my very attention. In hysterics, I tore up the contract right in front of Contact-Manager's face.

– You've ripped the contract…

– I DON'T CARE!

He wanted to object, but I spat at him and… Accidentally hit him directly in his mouth, that thing made him suffocate and cough for a long time. I used this moment to run out. This very evening, I got it: there is no fate at all.

Just like any religion, fate is an artificially grown concept, approved by the brain of the highest nexus in the food chain. It is like someone much more intelligent than human, pushes this golden connection between irresponsibility of his actions and wonderful opportunity to justify himself. This kind of friendly and warm hand, which helps to absorb an unpleasant and annoying feelings of guilt and anxiety. Fate in its core loudly screams that: «YOU DON'T HAVE THE FREE

WILL,» which is a great lie.

What is this all about? For what reason homo sapiens is that much in love with this fate conception? You know, maybe it is like a blissful salvation for a person, who just by nature between truth and lies chooses deception, illusions and sunglasses, in which pink shade of his own reflection with significant fanaticism will successfully emphasize his own attractiveness.

Finishing with my «Parliament Aqua» and watching the morning sight from the window I called Contact-Manager. The number doesn't exist they told. And then I went to bed.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. Interview process with Contact-Manager around Mediterranean Sea, Sicily, 2016.

Contact-Manager #2

After working, I went home. Took off all clothes, lit up a candle and lay down under the blanket. I wished some woman will open my door, make me a dinner, fragrant her sweet perfume. Somebody knocked the door. Full of hope, I opened up.

– Anonymous message for Contact-Manager.

– Who are you?

Mail guy gave me an envelope, then turned back and disappeared.

«Holy…» – I thought.

$10,0 per day

Oh, good old Middlesex. Its English style. Cozy evenings on the right side of Thames River. Headphones are playing «Beatles» with their sensuous «Michele».

This is how we dressed long before… We worked hard to reach out the good taste, tamed the ornate tentacles of surrogated postmodern fashion… We were alive.

– What about now?

I'm working in a factory for $10,0 per day. What is that? Money? The head of technician department pushed my back while I was moving upstairs:

– God damn, son! HURRY UP! – and he ran ahead of me.

It was that moment when I felt an extreme thirst in using martial arts like combat sambo, but I just said:

– Why should I?

Hitting his back with this sharp question, I wanted to emphasize the superiority of my independence in front of a representative of a high-ranked class, and before he answered I spat at stupid boss jacket. But I didn't mention my lips were frozen due to winter, and the spit landed on my chin. As fast as possible I covered my face by hands and pretended like if I sneezed.

Boss had turned around and found something alarming in my eyes. I got one

thing straight:

«We will meet again…»

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. A compliment to the patent of deck lighting system with gas-discharge lamps for emergency purposes, USA, Ottawa, 2016.

Contact-Manager #3

Mail guy brought two text records in one envelope. I opened the second.

Whom I work for?

I miss Middlesex. The morning promenade through the sunlit campus. The great pinnacle of my youth. I was buying half a liter of «Fiji» and was inspired by Ayn Rand's «The Fountainhead». Holy saints, I didn't even have a scholarship and stayed damn happy. I wanted to die young…

Finishing with reading an article of Vedic philosophy's impact to Nikola Tesla's free energy comprehension, I was going to work. There was «Gut's Theme»

playing on a laptop, while my branded cream pea-soup with mushrooms has been cooking. Mushrooms should be fried first, mixed up with vegetable oil, sour cream and tomato paste – taste a life of luxury.

After stepping out of bus, I saw some woman sitting on a concrete. That’s why I started sortingall of my coins fast, but I couldn't just throw her a single coin, so I shifted the whole banknote from my wallet to her paper cup.

– Why I gave her money?

I went home, had a beer and decided not to give a single penny to anyone who’s sitting on a concrete again. Because I didn't even understand why I did it before.

What if it was an Evolution itself which wanted to exсlude people like this woman?

And I was just stopping the development of all humanity by shifting

banknotes from my wallet to a paper cups. Besides, how could my money help this woman when even I was a beggar, who tried to survive by working in a factory while getting an education.

Soon I became aware about this woman grabbed much more money than I ever did! She had a boss! What the hell I was doing? Well, now I know the real truth.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. Confession on Joe Rogan's podcast, February 2016.

Contact-Manager #4

After mail guy's visit, I started digging info about Arthur Poghosyan. There was nothing about Arthur Poghosyan. Meanwhile his text records kept coming continuously. This time, new envelope was needed to be found in the forest.

There was a police patrol which saw me walking alone surrounded by trees and also holding the phone. Seems like I was looking suspicious for them, they obviously thought I was a junkie who was searching for his dope. They started to run rapidly towards me. I stood still and asked them as confident as I could:

– Are you running after me?

They answered:

– Yes.

And then they asked me to show up the phone's display. I showed it up and all suspicions got left. I was clean.

«Handballand»

I was driving home from work by bus full of hope and people. And I found out myself standing under the engine. The sole of the shoes started to melt. I felt panic. And sorry about levitation courses which I skipped at past times.

The bus was stuck in traffic. I lost sense of time. Finally, there was a stop point

where people emptied the bus. And I sat down near one gypsy-woman with a kid.

Kid's shoes had a nice battle with my trousers. His shoes took a victorious win.

And trousers suffered a dramatic defeat.

Acting like Johnny Depp from Jarmusch movie, I went into supermarket. Took bananas, apples, a pack of Idaho peas and one yeast-free bread without sugar.

While Idaho peas has been cooking, I started my sport-exercises. After cooking and sporting I

took a cold shower and had a sense that the worst part of the day was gone.

Suddenly, I remembered my school and how participated in PE's Olympiad.

Besides my sport-skills (which were actually good), in this Olympiad I was required of sport history knowledge. On the paper of test there was a question:

– Name the country where Handball was established.

The question was without any answers below, so I just wrote «Handballand». As I was told a bit later, my «Handballand» act disgraced the school.

Oh God, good old days when I didn't have a job and a second job, didn't study at the university, didn't have a financial debt… It was just life.

I finished the dinner and settled down. An hour later I will be speaking about second job projects with another boss. For what sake? All I can say is just I can't stand the bus rides anymore.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. Poetic technography, dedicated to the 3 rd part of the 1 st article of the Constitution of the Independent Republic of Handballand, three years before moving to London.

Contact-Manager #5

The next record I received by bird. Pigeon landed down on my opened window.

Pooped a bit. There was a little piece of paper tamed to his right feet by string. I found a fragment of map there. I was never able to read maps. So, I gave a mission to translate this little paper to geodetic bureau. Two days later they answered. Thus, I discovered where hides another text record.

Women

During the summer holidays, my parents finally said «no» to my basic needs financing, it was

ended with the following words:

– We have no money for you.

I made a strategically correct decision to find any possible way to earn money.

The choice fell on a brick factory, where working conditions had no requests for an official employment. At the factory I was met by an old boss: «First time here?»

– Yeah.

– Can’t find any normal job? – she asked.

– I like to work like a man, – I said.

She led me along the rail tracks. There were platforms with a huge number of bricks. I was new body here, endless quantity of predatory eyes of many naked men were looking at me walking next to the boss. I was afraid to look back at them and just moved further, highly doubting about the correctness of my strategically correct decision. Finally, we came to the last platform, the old boss shouted:

– Lera! Show this guy how to work.

A young girl 25-27 years old appeared from behind the bricks. I climbed up to her platform, she said:

– Hello.

– Hello! – I responded.

– Can’t find any normal job?

– I like this one!

She put the bricks in a special configuration which was growing into a huge cube.

Then it has to be strapped with a green ropes and transported to the warehouse by fork-lift car. I could not understand how she works among these naked predators, putting out hot bricks from the stove to a cubes in summer 40-degree heat. I asked:

– How long you’ve been working here?

– 2 years.

I lasted 3 weeks at this factory.

It was the same in any place I’ve been. In whatever field of activity I fell into, I met fragile women who courageously coped with the burden of the most unpleasant conditions that seemed unbearable to me. I have learned significant lessons for the rest of life from contact with girls. No matter how dark or deep I found myself, my eyes were always looking for a woman. Seeing her, I understood that as a man I just have to cope with anything, anything the delicate and vulnerable She copes with. It calms me down.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. An example of understanding neosexism during a lunch break at the «Hide» restaurant, Mayfair, London, March 2019.

Contact-Manager #6

After my wife’s death I lost any meaning of life. Arthur Poghosyan is the only string, which makes a connection between me and the real world. Even if I’ll not be capable of solving his mystery, at least, this chase keeps me alive.

Serving the others

I was listening to «Lascia Ch'io Pianga» from Trier's «Antichrist», drinking wine and watching stars from the balcony. I have to say, I was bored. Some mosquito was buzzing, destroying my self-control. In vain I waved my hands, hoping he would finally surrender. Then I fell asleep. Dawn brought itself early. I woke up and tilted my head back. Two flycatchers were sitting on the wall. «Why don't you eat mosquitos?» I took off my phone from charging, scrolled some «Instagram»

and made a few sips of «Fiji» and with an open door, which was letting light of the sun through, I fell asleep again.

Some events, which were taking place in the 21st century, have attracted my very attention. Look at «TikTok» at least. The government has reached the apogee of corruption, using its position and resources to achieve its personal goals, where the main thing is to preserve its current power. What terms do they use when broadcasting in the mass media about their activities? Nearby concepts like

«public benefits». As if each of their actions is supposed to be based on bringing something good to others. I see: who shouts the most about «serving others»? -

People who drowned in their greed and vices, people who unable to create.

There are some commodity-exporting countries, their economies are supported by fossil fuels or agricultural products. However, in situation of absence of any creation-process as an alternative way of enrichment, any reserve will exhaust itself. And from which resource you'll replenish this absence? Of course, from the people.

As if dropping a straw into a glass of a public smoothie, the authorities will suck the remaining blood from the body in a coma to the end, raising the retirement age and taxes. How this will be explained through the media? Of course, it is a public benefit: «It will be better this way», «We hope for your understanding».

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. Speech at the XXXII G7 Summit on behalf of Japan, about supply of energy resources from the North Atlantic Ocean, 2016.

Contact-Manager #7

Okay, I understood. I was trapped into a torture. There were women walking down the streets who didn’t want to be with me, and many of «Mercedes» cars which I couldn’t afford. That’s why I downloaded «Tinder», where signed myself as a Contact-Manager. And also invested money into a stocks on a long-term conditions. Every month, through an anonymous encrypted channel, I received coordinates, following which I traveled around the world, finding various records under the authorship of Arthur Poghosyan. I found the next record when climbed on the top of the slagheap (big pile of recycled coal), the record was hidden among the recycled coal.

Ocean and puddle

When I wonder about life for the sake of others and life for the sake of yourself, I consider the first one as much closer option to my heart.

Serving others means sharing my warmth and energy with people and nature.

Sharing love through my unique way. It could be kitchen help for mother, money transaction to some Baikal Lake safety foundation, or maybe if you’re kind of producer, you can try to unleash the creativity potential, for example, of the Munich youth.

Before share «something», «it» requires to be accumulated first. In other words, serving the others is preceded by serving yourself, to discover and unbox your inner potential.

I was always afraid of losing my time while taking care of myself instead of others.

Afraid of doing something with my own progress while strewing my thin energy puddle among the friends, following the principle of «serving others». I blindly tried to be good, supportive, polite and sympathetic.

At that time, I was plagued by thoughts that living for others sake is much bigger than only being polite with friends or giving a beggar a couple of euros. I understood that do something great and meaningful you can only when you have a whole ocean of power, which you can share without any burnout.

If human creates something, he’s sharing goods of his creation with others.

Studying the examples of the most successful creators, I realized that the life for others sake which I pursued for, was possible only when I live for my own pleasure, creating and bringing into the world ideas which correlate with my inner state. There is no need to be afraid to waste time on yourself personally.

It's easy to get confused in principles of serving yourself and serving others.

There is a path of theft, violence, deception, fear. As I see, it's a dead end.

But creation and discovering the way of sharing your love, finding joy in each new day – this is a high level life. This is the truth and the power. And if you choose this path, then everything will be fine.

Then the ocean will be opened.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. Autumn monologue on the balcony of a rented apartment in Florence, 2016.

Contact-Manager #8

I’ve watched an interview with Yohji Yamamoto. Then interview with Jeff Buckley.

Opened «Tinder», put many of my likes. I put to everyone. Wrote to a beautiful girl. We went for a walk and I asked:

– Do you know Arthur Poghosyan?

– Who is he?

– Hm…

I had geoposition of the next record. And suggested her to come with me. We came close to a hollow tree, I put my hand into this tree till the elbow and took the record out.

– What’s this? – she asked.

Battle. No… It’s war

Asphalt roadway, paved on both sides for pedestrians, roadway which leading to a place that belongs to me. Place where I wrote «Home» – a poem that entered the culture of mankind, having a tremendous impact on public consciousness.

Moon was burning while remaining light of the fading day was almost extinguished. My course was towards the sun, northwest course. Young shepherds with goats walked and passed by as if from the pages of children’s fairytale. Autumn comes earlier here. Leaves by falling down generate an orange foundation, which looks similar to Persian carpet in Brodsky's anteroom.

Christmas tree was torn out together with its roots by strong winds. This fir tree was looking at the rest trees on a small height left to fall, grabbing for wire-lines of street lighting by its prickly branches. Beauty, tragedy. Nature sacrifices itself, making fir tree as a simple soldier to strike down the infrastructure of homo sapiens. Battle. No… It’s war. How beautiful is here. I sat down on my favorite bench and took out fruits from my bag.

– You can’t be here, – someone said.

I turned back and looked at the man:

– You want me to leave?

– It’s prohibited to stay here.

– But I came here.

This security keeper watched his phone and started to push buttons furiously, calling the police or something. I couldn’t sit here with comfort and write masterpieces like «Home» while surrounded with such nonsense. I went away, eating my fruits.

They took away my freedom of choice, they want to steal 1 year of my life in the army, they’ve already taken 13 years of external education for the sake of a certificate and two diplomas, they took a lot from me, and I could bear with it.

But now this country was trying to take my favorite place away – my secret corner of a brilliant writer. I couldn't believe it. Do this to me?

Well, the great ones have always been treated cruelly. I should get used to the hardships. On my way back I ate plums, some of them were sweet. I missed for being alone. At the same time, if someone would call me now, I would agree to meet. Looking at the cars passing by, I wanted to see a familiar one and wave my hand. Being mistaken in the prerequisites, I decided to go to the forest.

Yes, I'm going to the forest. I'm a genius. The craziest in this city. Maybe more? In the country? In the world? I'm Arturo Bandini. Am I great? The Greatest. I'm walking into the forest while it’s totally dark. The lights were out. I walked like in a dream. Darkness surrounded, and I was all alone in it.

A couple of times I directed my flashlight on particularly suspicious places, they all turned out to be a pile of abandoned plastic dishes. All my fears turned out to be garbage. I have reached the right place. It was scary, I was afraid of every rustle. Black branches almost blocked the already dark sky. I heard something suspicious from the left side. The moving silhouette made me hold my breath. It was a dog. I didn't like them before, now it seems I can love them too. Dog jumped up and ran away into the darkness. I thought I had to go.

When I came out of the forest, I felt relieved. The sky here was starry. I remembered about the «Bucket», which someone calls «Big Dipper»

constellation. It always reminds me of a question mark. I couldn't find it for a long time. Here it is. Looking at this constellation, I began to cry, feeling the

pain of loss. But I understood that it was normal part of me, just another stage of transformation.

(c) Arthur Poghosyan. Opening speech at the «Pink Floyd» concert in Pompeii, Colosseum, March, 2016.

Contact-Manager #9

We meet each other at the entry to a restaurant. She had full black sophisticated silk dress, graceful makeup, little sandals. I spoke to her:

– You are just like future.

– Why?

– You cannot be recognized.

I opened a pack. Took for myself and gave to her, then lit our cigarettes. I suppose, I fell in love. At this Italian restaurant we tasted baked camembert in plum sauce, tagliatelle with mushrooms, apple strudel and Taiga sbiten’ to wash this meal down. Women who weren’t touched by pain don't attract me. I was sitting in front of her with a working day imprinted on my face, but I still kept the charm. Evening came. Under the canopy of the entrance, we were sheltering from the rain. After our first kiss, she asked:

– From now… Will you never forget me?

– What?

– Will you ever forget me?..

Autumn

I sat down in the alley in front of wholesale store, its size was as a stamping factory. I was advised in «Storytel» app for audiobooks listening, it occurred, it

needs a payment for subscribing… I deleted all the people who advised me

«Storytel». My great-uncle by father’s line always told me:

– Son, mark my words: whatever some people want money for, others will give it for free.

I answered:

– Great-uncle, why do you call me a son?

– I ask questions here, – answered great-uncle.

This vivid memory overwhelmed me into a dark stream of intense reflection, that’s why I didn’t notice an appearance of a woman in the alley. I glanced at her using the collar of an old coat as an invisibility suit. She was barefoot – this fact brought me into affective state. Elena Temnikova’s music started playing in my head. As the woman approached, I realized: the woman was naked. Only an old open windbreaker from the local «Second Hand» covered her solid tits. She sat down next to me closely. I thought I had to go.

– I’m sorry, I had to go.

The headphones in my ears ignored any objection from this naked woman to my (as it might seem to her) fast capitulation.

«Storytel» app played Tolstoy's book in a free weekly period. After about a hundred meters of escape from her, I turned around. The naked woman wasn't there, she left. Lucky I am. With a bit sense of sadness I thought, there were much younger and prettier girls who were interested in me before…

Walking through the autumn fallen leaves, I remembered the death of my great-uncle. And I thought I will most likely follow his example.

(c) Artur Poghosyan. The answer to the question about «Moscow cases» in the framework of the backstage of «Nevzorov’s Wednesdays» at the Helvetia Hotel,

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