I entered the New new Moscow University in the first year. There was a lot of difficulty finding accommodation in such a big city. After a lot of struggle, a one-room apartment was found from which I could get to the University on foot in ten minutes.


The accompanying room belonged to a woman. Rumors flew about his maneuverability among the neighbors. Would have been slippery. She will be twenty-five, twenty-six years old. The color was particularly sanola. Men are equal to men and men who are long. Facial impressions as if they were trimmed with an ax instead of a chisel by a stoner. Eyebrows of a dense bushy variety. His heavy voice, shining eyes like workers like Del Dole and wild animals scared me of him from the very first day.


She did not look Russian at all. Neighbors believed that it came from Poland. His name was Tereza.


When I knew that he was at home, I would not leave the door of the room open. But she would have been rare at home. Sometimes she would have found me in the corridor or in the courtyard below. On such occasions, she would have been drunk and addressed me by saying Mr. student. I disliked his laughter. I couldn't get out of it for a few minutes and listened to it quietly.


One day around ten o'clock in the morning I was still in bed and thinking under the pretext of avoiding attendance at the class at eleven o'clock suddenly knocked on the door and entered the Tereza room without waiting for my answer.


"Are you a good student?"“

"Why are you getting into the room?“

I asked Strictly.


She had traces of embarrassment and impudence on her face that I had never seen before. As if stretching your hand to make a plead.


There was some tenderness in my voice.

"What happened? What's the job?“

I asked again.


"Yeah, student, that's it, if you please. You are literate. I am absolutely ignorant. I want to send a letter home. But I don't know how to write. Will you write? Please. You are very good. You will have a lot of kindness.“


I woke up with a feeling of calamity. A blue pad was placed on the table. Pen Duat was also there. I dipped the pen into the light. Asked him to sit in the side chair and asked،


"What do you want to write to your family ? Whose name?“

"His name is blazov. He is my fiancé.“

Then he gave me the address of a street in Warsaw. And began to write letters.


"My dear blazov. Darling. My faithful beloved. May the mercy of Mary and Jesus be revealed to you. You haven't written a letter for a long time. You have had the night sleep and the chain of the day of this grieving little dove. “


I tried to confiscate a thousand but could not confiscate hearing the grieving little dove and laughed spontaneously. Now he really looked at me like a wounded bird. I apologized without asking.


"Blazov is your fiancé?“

"Yes, No, but it will be.“

The story began to be somewhat complicated.

"So he's just your acquaintance?“


"So what sin is there in this? Does a young girl like me not have the right to love someone? Yes, he is my acquaintance.“


She was now speaking with anger and enthusiasm.

"Yes, yes, why not. Everything is possible in the world. From when?“

I had become something curious.

"From five years.“

"Well, let's write the letter. What do you want to say next?“


My own life was devoid of all kinds of romanticism. And tell the truth that I was ready to do until jealousy on blazov if there was someone else in the place of his beloved Tereza.


Now Tereza had started writing the letter again. Which in the same kind of exaggerated conversations ended up assuring blazov of his fidelity until the last breath.


"Please, student. I will never forget your favor. If there is a service worthy of me, tell me. “


I was just in the same dilemma as what kind of service it was pointing to that it made my difficulty easier.


"If you ever have to ruffle torn socks or iron clothes and or put a grandson on the floor of the room, order me. I will do the service. You have a lot of kindness. “


Saying that, she left.


After a couple of weeks I was sitting in my room with a view out the window. There was a tiredness in nature. He didn't want to do anything, and suddenly the door opened and entered the Tereza room without permission.


"Sir, I hope you are not very busy. I'm not bothering you?“

"No, what's the point?“

"I want to hurt you to write another letter.“

"To whom ? To blazov ?“

"No, student, Sir. “

"What do you mean? By blazov? To someone else? To whom ?“ ’

I asked several questions one after the other.

"You will think that maybe I'm crazy. Or I'm not crazy. “

He looked at me in a pleading voice.


"But I want to write this letter for a friend of mine. Not a friend, just a man I have a little acquaintance with. This man loves a girl like that. Like blazov wants me. The girl's name is also Tereza. Just like my name. You write a letter to Tereza from her side. “


My thought was getting good mid. I looked carefully at Tereza. She looked very upset and uncomfortable. His fingers were trembling. Then suddenly everything came to my understanding. I tried to get angry.،


"What are you lying about? Who are you cheating on? Me or yourself ? I understand your lie. No blazov name has your fiancé or lover. No man knows you who wants a fictitious Triza. I'm not interested in these stories. Nor do you come to me to write such a letter in the future. Do you understand?“


A fear was reflected in Tereza's eyes. She stood next to my table with her hands tied. I felt like she was staggering. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words did not support him. He couldn't say anything.


Then suddenly she almost ran out of my room with sharp steps. I heard her door closing loudly. And then a voice as if someone was trying to strangle a scream.


I wish I could take my words back. I showed the heart of this poor woman. I quickly got up and rolled towards his door. Tereza was crying, holding her head in her hands while sitting on the bed. She was not at all surprised to see me.


"Listen to me, Triza.“

I addressed him in a shy and gentle tone.

But what happened after that is a map on my heart to this day as if it were yesterday.


Triza walked towards me. The flames were raining from his eyes. He put both hands on my shoulders and said in a voice full of Ricky hiccups،


"No. Listen to me, student. Well that there is no blazov in my life. I think I thought it was a pitcher. But tell me that your hands would have been broken if you had written two words and placed the heart of an oppressed person? Listen blue-eyed, golden-haired student yes, no blazov. No Tereza either. Happy now?“


I didn't understand what to say. Shocked and shocked to see him for a while. And then I asked.


"What are you saying that blazov does not exist?“

"No.“

"And Tereza?“

"No. No Tereza either.“


I was surprised as if frozen in my place. Tereza left me and approached the table. Did things around as if looking for something. Picked up a piece of paper and held it in my hand. It was this letter that I wrote to blazov. She looked like in an angry voice.


"Take this. If you're hurt, write it. Take this. Handle your letter. I don't want to. I'll write to someone else.“


I was again in a dilemma.


"What does it mean Triza? Why would you write a letter to others that I have already written to you? Did you not send this letter?“


"Where to send?“

"Where? To your blazov, and where?“

"Mr. student.“

He said in a voice immersed in the poison of sarcasm.


"Mr. student, you are well educated, but in the scalp covered with your golden hair, it did not come to the sadness that blazov did not exist. “


Now I was completely dizzy. But further conversations were in vain. I had to go back. He held my hand and said in the power of emotion.


"Look, Mr. student, I have no acquaintance with the name blazov, although I want him to be. I am also a man after all. The meat is made of poppy. Like everyone else. Blood also runs in my veins. I also have feelings. And what worsened someone if I wrote him a letter?“


"To whom ?“

My brain was completely dizzy.

"To whom ? To blazov . And to whom ?“

"But he is not.“


Now I was completely deprived of the ability to think. There was some relaxation in Tereza's voice. She was addressing me as if a teacher was trying to explain a dilemma to a dilemma school.


"Look, Mr. student, listen to me. You are right that he does not exist. But it is not impossible to be. He can be. I write a letter to him. Then he sends his answer to Tereza, that is, to me, which I write to someone as educated as you.

And then the answer. So that way, student sir, my difficult life becomes a little easier in my thoughts. “


Now everything was revealed to me. There was no end to my regret and embarrassment. I was looking at myself with contempt in my own eyes. In front of me stood an oppressed, deceived entity of society. Who had no one in his time. I had formed an opinion based on his poverty, modest appearance and belonging to the lower classes in which I refused to bring his humanity to conception.


All over the world alone this woman was just hungry for love. Not from a real person, albeit from an imaginary person. And I was unable to understand such a simple thing. He had carved a sculpture into the concept. What was she spoiling someone.


Since that day it became my norm that twice a week I would write a letter to blazov. Then the answer to Tereza, having read, but also hearing, she cried, laughed. Roth also went and believed. Like blazov and Tereza are not imaginary, real.


Tereza, despite forbidding me, would ruffle my stockings, iron my clothes and put a grandson on the floor of the room.


About three months after the incident, police arrested him on suspicion of theft at neighbors ' homes, after which I did not receive any notifications.


This has been a long time. Now I'm going to be eighty years old. Whether or not God is alive. In the face of loneliness, I sometimes think that the more bitterness and bitterness a person receives in life, the more he craves sweetness. And we who are wrapped in a cloak of self-sufficiency and prosperity completely ignore this fact. And as a result, we are not only guilty of foolishness, but also of brutality.


We speak of fallen and cynical classes. But who are the fallen and crap people? Was Tereza fallen and crap? Why do we forget that they are made of the same meat Poppy and bones as we do.


If seen, we, who delight in our wealth and wisdom, have fallen into al-tribe under our own sense of superiority. The blood of‘ fallen ' people like Tereza is also on our hands