What time do we live in?

Sometimes it seems that the past is returning. Whether we are doomed to eternal repetition or is it an illusion?

The answer seems obvious only at first glance. Time is not only a date in the calendar. These are fashion, habits, habits and words, prohibitions and permission, “given” and “need to prove” and, by and large, worldview. Times are layered on each other. And the past, which seemed to be gone irrevocably, suddenly looks into the present. As if a guest has a strangled guest, not yet a locked door to the apartment, from which he left five minutes ago, forgetting his hat in the hallway.

Just the other

day, from the Park of Culture, I was heading to the large glass bridge across the Moscow River. Dried a light April rain. Frunzenskaya embankment all of rumor: they build something. Portable metal fences do not hide pieces of red clay turned out. Fencing striped ribbons are stretched between the trees, which suddenly change the intended route. Having made another forced turn, I saw a sculptural group right in front of me: she practically blocked my path, leaving only a narrow path for the passage to the side. The first in my eyes was a woman sitting on a bench dressed in the post-war years: a tablet hat, suit, shoes with a jumper. Behind her back – and behind the back of the bench – there is a middle -aged man: on the tunic on the right is a university rhombus, on the left of the order and star of the hero. And in front of them is a boy with the letters of the IEV in uniform: the Suvorov Military School, I deciphered. In one hand he holds a suitcase, bring the other to his cap, saluting the military, which stands opposite him and seems to me desperately familiar. The “acquaintance” has also a rhombus on his chest and two stars. There is no signature. An unexpected sculpture. I wish to show who! But who will you drag here in such weather … And then I remembered: there is a camera in the mobile! Hooray. I removed the phone from the cover, attached my umbrella on my knees to the woman and began to take pictures of the elder by rank in the calculation later to find out who he looked like. There was not enough cloudy light, the pictures were dark. I came in on one side, then on the other. When, having completed my attempts, I was about to continue my path, a man approached me, too fat from his overalls covering him. On top of everything on it was a reflective vest of dazzling.

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