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There is a wonderful emptiness in her head.
It does not hurt, humiliate, despise or denigrate.
After bathing, Nadezhda gets dressed. She gathers her
voluminous flesh into a tight, black corset. She does not put
on underpants. It isn’t cold enough yet. And she finds it
more comfortable. Only a pair of jeans, a high-necked
pullover, a windbreaker and her low laced boots. In her bag
she puts a sandwich, cigarettes, a Mickey of vodka, handy-
wipes, condoms and hydrogen peroxide. With sunglasses
perched on her nose, she is ready for her journey.
That day, a while ago now, she came out of the woods with
her baskets full. She left her load at the edge of the wide
road by the old bus stop. She returned with two boxes. On
one of them she organized the mushrooms in pretty piles,
she herself sat down on the other, and began to wait. It was
Friday afternoon, cars sped by one after the other. Not one
of them slowed down but just roared past. Nadezhda had
begun to lose hope, when a fancy-looking car stopped
suddenly a short distance from her. After two young girls
had stepped out, the car drove away. Dressed in short
skirts, their hair in disarray, shivering, they approached
Nadezhda.
Did she know that this place was spoken for?
Did they also want to sell something?