Егор Безрылов (koznodej) wrote,
Егор Безрылов

Россия на Гудзоне в оптике довоенного качества

They were walking down a side street in the early summer twilight; ahead of them Lexington Avenue was gaudy with neon.

In the basement of an old brownstone was a window painted in primary blues and reds; above it a sign, “Double Eagle Kretchma.”

Gypsy music was filtering out on the heated air.

“It looks like a joint to me.”

“I like joints—when I’m in the mood for dirt. Let’s go in.”

It was dark with a few couples sliding around on the little dance floor. A sad fat man with blue jowls, wearing a Russian blouse of dark green silk, greasy at the cuffs, came toward them and took them to a booth.

“You wish drinks, good Manhattan? Good Martini?”

“Do you have any real vodka?” Lilith was tapping a cigarette.

“Good vodka. You, sir?”

Stan said, “Hennessy, Three Star, and plain water.”

Tags: music, гении, цитаты, чужая проза

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