For more than a month, Ahmed had not logged into the Telegram account. Olga continued to send him her messages and even videos. Something like a bad habit had developed in her. Whatever nonsense came into her head, she couldn't help but send IT to HIM, Ahmed. He began to seem to her as an ideal of a man. In her messages, she sometimes talked to herself, then, from time to time, to Ahmed, then to the black hole, then to God.
Уже больше месяца Ахмед не заходил в аккаунт Телеграм. Ольга продолжала отсылать ему свои сообщения и даже видео. Что-то вроде вредной привычки появилось у нее. Всякий вздор, какой приходил в голову, она не могла не отсылать ЕМУ, Ахмеду. Он стал казаться ей идеалом мужчины. Она разговаривала в своих сообщениях то сама с собой, то с Ахмедом, то с черной дырой, то с Богом.
The message - 225-
15/05
Hello Ahmed!
What is your life like, Ahmed? Today morning I had a dream. I spent the night in my garden our family used to have when I was a kid. When I was pregnant I was forced to sell it for ridiculous money. There used to be a house, a two-stored one, built by my father. Our neighbor was one of his classmates in University.
I saw in my dream that boys from his house came to my one for, like, an excursion. I saw their company staying on the stairs and I invited them to rise to the second floor.
They were curious: they'd found hidden places in the house I didn't guess about. Many small cute hidden rooms I'd never seen. Why did my parents never show me them? I was about to cry and felt bitter.
I made so many mistakes in my life. I lost almost all the property my father earned. I made the casual stupid choice of partner for life and kept by him as if he was gold despite I always told him to go away from us. I educated my daughter in a bad way. I didn't educate myself properly. Educate in the sense to know my profession, people, men, life, and myself. I still don't know what I love, what I want, where to go. I've spent little time thinking about how to live. My boat was steered by the flow of life, I had no paddles and didn't try to see where it was headed to. I saw just vague hills. But now I tend to see sharp stones and water downs.
Now he is 53. He wanted me almost every day. He is handsome and strong. He loved very long preludes, kissed and bit me, so long, that sometimes he cannot end. So he tries to end up once and once again. But I am not a doll. His smooches become torture for me. He admires me, I am on top. But I don't see his reaction, he lies as a dead corpse, without any sound or facial expression, that does not thrill me. He never gives me encouragement, stimulating words. In short, very often I feel empty. I feel he uses my body as if I were a soulless wordless lifeless stupid doll.
Sorry, I told you about it here. Maybe all of this and me are disgusting for you. But..I'm sure you don't read my garbage, and...I trust you if you read. I am sorry I use your place as a polygon for my experiments. I like you. You are a man I could love. I think he understood I don't pretend to enter his life. I am looking for a new place in my life. I am not unhappy but I want to be happy. My former partner has played all his parties in my life. I must not allow him to stay with me.
Okay, last three minutes before I get up...
Good morning, Olga! Have a nice day, Olga!
The message - 226-
16/05
Hello Ahmed!
I always was an outsider to our mass culture, an outsider in life. I ignored some rules in the surrounding world, some norms accepted in the society. I was confronting reality all my life. I lived in the space I imagined by myself. I had special glasses that were distorting all around.
But at the same time, I am a product of that culture because I grew up here. I am Russian, but the world where I live is not Russian. My worldview was formed by mostly European and American books of the 18-20 centuries, the same in music, mostly classical and traditional for different countries. My attitudes and beliefs in family and attitudes in sex were somehow based on my imaginations of Caucasian culture. On the other hand, I never felt shame in sexual games with my partner because I've read many sex books when I was a teen. Almost all I know about people, life, sense, feelings, and so on are from books. I had no life.
I didn't face many problems other people meet. I am an artificial human being.
I have in my head a horrible mix of Muslim and European points of view in many areas. I often don't realize where they are, those meeting points.
...I lost track of my thoughts...bye for now...
The message - 227-
17/05
Hello Ahmed!
I am looking at the single your photo in good quality, your face for *** University portfolio, I see your fine amber eyes, so clear and sincere, young and bright in your old seamed pigmenting face that is a bit ugly in the whole. I am tracking the fine lines of your face-bones I told you about, I see inclemency in your features, almost cruelty, that is abhorrent to love. Your thin lips seem to make sometimes cruel, sometimes poisonous, cynical smiles. The feeling of atrocity is increased by crooked teeth and dark patches of unshaven cheeks. However, you look like an old kind thick woman in that armor. Even your hands look like women's, so tender they are in all your photographs I've ever seen. Your curved wayward hair makes you similar to a big bird, a clever parrot with a topknot I always want ummmmmmm.. to touch..as your prickly cheek too.. In some photos you look as light as a butterfly, very elegant, having no weight, as if you are filled with helium inside, like a balloon. I love your gesticulation and hands in all their positions.
I like you very much :) Have a nice day, Ahmed.