The furious wolf protected...
well I remember this sad faceless office house absolutely another. At various times it towered at the corner of Stoleshnikova of a lane and the Big Dmitrovka that brimstone it is dark - a yellow bulk as it seemed to me in the childhood, but always from it blew as house heat. Because in it lived, instead of people came to the office there. Each window was shone on - to the.
And the fur shop was located on the ground floor of this building, in which show-window spitefully shcherilsja an experienced wolf.
the Predator by then when I have seen it for the first time, has been already fairly beaten molju, but its canines on - former, despite defeat from insects, looked awful. This wolf well-known to all Moscow was. And spoke: “ At a wolf, in Stoleshnikovom “ if wanted to designate the exact address of that shop.
Here Konstantin Georgievich Paustovsky has lived very important part of the life. He was born in Moscow, but soon parents have taken away it - the father was the railway employee, and only later, already being quite independent young man, Paustovsky has returned to Moscow. After has moved down and has again returned... Invincibly something pulled it here.
Summer in Moscow the writer did not love from - for a dust and closeness. As he admitted, to prepare in a heat for it there was a laziness, therefore it was fed with tea with cheese and sausage. Well with bread, certainly. But it was written in a communal flat on the third floor with windows to a court yard, it was written to it easily and it is spacious. In spite of the fact that for work in shumlivoj and a discordant communal flat it has found a unique place in a close closet without a window, dimly shined with a weak-willed electric bulb.
And so, behind cheese and sausage Paustovsky went to grocery in the next house on a lane where it knew, by itself, all rosy-cheeked saleswomen in hard, ready suddenly to burst on seams white dressing gowns. Once the girl has wrapped a Dutch cheese piece (Dutch instead of what another) in a strange dense paper with colour divorces, and houses, taking cheese, the writer has seen before itself a map scrap.
It has captivated it. It everything, having forgotten about noisy capital, has plunged into a map, it was started up in fragile lodchonke on narrow twisting small river, has got in shady paporotnikovyj wood and, absolutely turned by one only names of villages, has suddenly understood that cannot live, without having visited these places. It was Meshchera.
In the end of the same summer Paustovsky has gone there. After the first meeting with Meshcheroj he has started to write on - to another, it is better, as he considered, easier, sderzhannee.
When - that was brought by its loyal friend, writer Alexander Roskin who could not lift even a bag with bread, and has brought Konstantin Georgievicha who has absolutely grown weak after a typhus on hands on the third floor...
In the house at the corner of the Big Dmitrovka Paustovsky has had time to write much. And “ the Penalty - Bugaz “ - the first book which has made at once its known writer. At least he so spoke. In a communal flat of this house he wrote about kind silence and aroma meshcherskih woods, about thoughtful small rivers, transparent to the bottom... So wrote that necessarily all thoughts there you direct...