Chapter 11
“You need a decent job”, Mom stated one morning, stressing on decent and getting on my nerves.
Her eyes were mistrustful every morning when I bundled a bright emerald scarf around my neck and left home to do miracles. My reality became plasticine, and I was anxious about the question, what I could eventually make of it. For the third consecutive month, accidental witnesses paid for miracles that they could create themselves.
Everything began, as always, without a plan or intention. I slowly walked down Khreshchatyk, scribbling with a pencil in my notebook phone numbers from job ads. The big city, modern and over inhabited, had its own rules of survival. The water moved from the wells to the pipes, the light from the fireplaces to the lamps, and the food from the trees to the
