Life is gone...
I've never ever read something like that. It is a great strange story about a man who just made a mistake, just have only one chance, using which, he broken down. He had all of he wanted accept one hing: a novel, a great novel which could get hin the most famous person in book world. He was trying but all his stories wasn't so good as he wanted (somehow he was happy because he had a wife he loved. That's just save him during the lonely nights). Each Publishers were refusing him over and over. He could not stand of it. He became irratble. That wasn't a good way. One day he found a book. Emm ... Just a story with extremely old papers. He felt it. Felt all of this. The character of the book may live a very hard life if he wrote this text. But he didn't know who it was and i don't really sure that he ever wanted to know. he just experienced it as if it was him in the papers. His words couldn't be hold back. He rewote, rewote all of this story to understand how exactly the author felt when he wrote this. Why did he do it? Why did he do it precisely that way. He couldn't understand why his fingers was printing and printing but it seemed like he never stopped. And he got it.
Time was running, he generally forgot about this case but suddenly, his wife stumbled upon it and read. She was in hysterics. That book was so amazing that as she said her hasband had to show this greatness to someone. He, shocked by her reaction, decided to do what she proposed. And it was that. He became one of the most famous person as he ever want. But there was a single problem: it wasn't his work. He just rewoted it. That's it. But as I add he safely forgot about this thing. One day the real author of this words find him and tell him a story about his hard passed life. And the character was started identify "his own work". The old man naratted all the story, i mean, all his life nay what happened after the end of the book (i just want to say that when the narattor was telling his story I mutualy understand that it is the greatest film I have ever seen before. I don't know what namely happened to me but it made a really great impression on me. At the begining of the my " little review" I waned to write "It is the greatest book I've ever read" seems like I really read it but not watched the film.)
The real author died sone day, but this man who stole the story couldn't accept this of the end of his life...
Это было мило. После прошла неделя Может меньше, может больше. Я слава богу не считала. Мы пошли в кино вчетвером (Рита потом ушла). У меня начало складываться впечатление, что все специально подстроено, потому что нас часто оставляли вдвоем. Но я стараюсь в это не верить. Это мой мозг крутит фантастические представления в кино моих мыслей, чтобы дать надежду. Кино было смешным, хотя ужастик вроде. ... Саша меня все время старался напугать, а его била, потому что мне было страшно, Костя ржал с меня и говорил Саше, что он молодец). Так прошел просмотр фильма. После выхода с Авроры, я замерзла, он искал мне перчатки в сумке, смеялся с того, что я выгляжу как шахидка, так как надела шарф на лицо от холода. Играл с моими кольцами как раньше, выделывался будто в первый. Слушал, показал, что помнит все до последней мелочи.... до последней. Я промолчала. Мне было так больно и в тоже время приятно, я не знала, как себя вести. Может все это шутка, и он общается со мной из-за Холмса, потому что последний явно мной заинтересовался. Может он хочет все начать с начала. Хотя вряд ли.... Сомнительно. Вот поэтому-то я и промолчала. Не хотела сказать глупость и выставить себя как девушку, которая до сих пор влюблена в него. Он все равно не должен об этом знать. Никогда.