My city's like a magican.
Magican without age or sex, or even nationality.
When you go out from your home and dive into the boiling, dancing, waving life of the city, you should be ready for miracles.
It may be meetings, may be music, may be... well, everything.
Yesturday it was poetry.
I rushed to phsychologycal workshop, and was already late for 15 minutes.
Suddenly I saw a group of people.
There was a girl in the centre.
And she read a poem by Mayakovsky.
It was ingeniously!
She was ingeniously.
She read as if it were not Mayakovsky, but a words from her own soul.
When she ended, I asked a girl standed near me: "Who is she?
And what's up here?"
"Just a student, - the answer was.
- It's improvisation.
And now it turnes into open microphone.
Look, may be you wanna read something?"
I hesitated.
But noone noticed, cos enother girl read already.
It was Brodsky's poem.
People from the street stayed to listen, and then to read by themselves.
Pure improvisation. Pure magic.
May 2014
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