13
When around noon I came to the corner of Khreshchatyk and Prorizna, the tall bald man in the scarlet cloak was already there. I remembered every feature of his sturdy, broad face, and was anticipating the same tickling of fear under my ribs. And it was coming like a calm flood... The man stood leaning against an old house, and I could swear — if at that very moment he had just stepped away, the tons of old stone interspersed with plastic windows would collapse scattering around. An ancient prophet or a city loony, he watched every movement around him — just only managing to shift his look from cars onto people, and from those — onto lonely lost, stray birds. It seemed that he even gasped with his mouth cold, the sharp wind blew as if he just snacked with it every day. A wild irritation
