About what he spoke with you? - Who? Beklin has repeated - distinctly, moving with numerous fish bones on cheekbones: -
About what with you told Nostradamus? - He has asked: whether it is impossible to suspend investigation? On couple of
days...
And all? - He has told that soon it will stop by itself, he promises...
I do not trust! - Fail you! All details - in my official report, you can read...
Then Beklin took me for a collar as if going to smother.
Well - if has told lies!.
I lay on kitchen, on a floor, and before eyes there was a rather dirty trampled grey linoleum in the lagged behind bubbles. On
the right there was a compressor wound with a dust and hair, and at the left - the peeled off legs of stools. My side burnt, as if
it have pierced a spear. It seemed to me that I will immediately die, if I will move. Smelt as a sour mould, inveterate tobacco
and - simultaneously, as though without mixing up, - the fresh, just cut cucumbers, this smell as if with a knife on a brain,
opened in memory something disturbing. Something very urgent, necessary. Marshy burnt wood leant on me, and on its
isolated blackness lead stupidly banged.
It was the hallucination. I have already come to hallucinations. Actually, why I have come to hallucinations? Investigatory
experiment. My consciousness broke up to separate friable lumps, and to me was not to collect in any way them.
Amber eyes of the Turkman burnt ahead of all person: - Clay... Light...
Emptiness... Your Name - anybody... Stone pleasure... Nowadays there ascends the Capricorn... Pull out the heart, approach
to the Sleeping Brother and kill him... You - sand in my hand... You - a trace of my gait... You - a shade of a shade, a shower
of a caterpillar on which I come the heel... - its Voice deformed by strong accent, jingled for anger. It was shaken forward-
back, and outsets of a dark blue turban concerned a carpet. The carpet was special, prayful, with a difficult Arabian pattern -
that which appeared in business materials. Probably, it have brought specially to restore former conditions. Beklin insisted on
it, - to restore to the smallest details. For this reason now, copying last ritual, a petal, having crossed bare feet, sat round it
"zvezdniki", and thick Zunja, already in easy madness, with crimson cheeks too was shaken forward-back, as the porcelain
god: - I am a dust on your palm... I am a dirt on soles... Take my life and erase it. . - Kljachka Also was shaken, tearing horse
sinews on a neck, and Burnosyj and Obrazina were shaken.