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Because clearly the world did not work the way she imagined before. The visible connection between different events—objective laws, consistent patterns, accidents, and regular days—all this simply served as a Chinese screen for another existence, invisible and incomprehensible. If the man in the dark glasses exists—really, truly exists—if his hands hold dreams, reality, accidents . . . What is the purpose, then, of going to school? Entering a university? When at any moment everything could disappear, be destroyed, simply because Sasha’s alarm clock did not go off on time?
Vita nostra . . . “Our life is brief, / It will shortly end; / Death comes quickly.”
The pain was like that of a mosquito bite. Sasha twitched, wishing to slap down the mosquito and return to studying, but the universe composed of a myriad of nuances was already sliding off her, like a hat carried away by the wind. This universe was set in constant motion, infused with associations, puzzling and inexplicit, and yet natural and harmonious. This universe that she had just begun to explore—she was already blown away by its wisdom and magnificence. This universe was ideally suited for exploring it deeper and deeper—from association to association, from leaf to root, and farther,
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They’ll kiss and make up, Sasha thought almost sympathetically. And then they will continue carrying the yoke of their incidental marriage. There are so many couples who live like that.
“Trust me, I can remember anything you want. I remember being a child. Being raised by monkeys. Being a girl. Working as a cabin boy. Saving a baby out of the fire, scoring the winning goal during the World Cup. Memories are projections of events, and in this case it is much less important whether the events are real or not.”
The phone line filtered emotions like blotting paper absorbs tea leaves.

