And it all ended less poetically than it began...
"Everything passes, and summer has passed too" – we paraphrased the famous expression...
The end of an unforgettable journey, of discoveries and emotions, crept up unnoticed. The end of new acquaintances, fun summer parties, and sunbathing.
In our playlists, the number of songs about home, returning, and friends started to grow unnoticed. The most popular one, of course, "Goodbye, America, o-o-o...", played almost 24 hours a day...
But this parting was not like others... It cannot be compared to the end of a shift at a children's summer camp. It is not the last day at a Turkish hotel. It is not even the farewell of loved ones parting for a long time...
It is the realization that you will ne-ver see these people again. That, despite all the promises, the making of cherished wishes, the exchange of notes with confessions, you will not see each other again...
-"Of course! Next year to California! EVERYONE! In the same group..."
But people are flying away... Gradually. Today there are two fewer of us, yesterday three... Tomorrow we will be three left. And the day after tomorrow the apartment will be empty... With each person who leaves, the hope of meeting disappears more and more... An empty apartment - hope has evaporated... And who said that it dies last? The love for them is still breathing...
The last days... We speak in a "mix-language" invented by the local Russians, because no one there will understand... Because THERE everything is different... We go to our favorite places, have lunch in our favorite cafes, smoke on our favorite benches... Greeting all the sellers in Venice, making eyes at the boys in Westwood, and buying cigarettes "on the cheap" from Yulka's acquaintance, we suffer... And these are not loud words.
There are no tears, strangely enough. But no smiles either. The expression on our faces is disgusting and so unlike those we see around us every day – those that look so much like emojis from pictures and so unlike those that are THERE... The last Frappuccino brings no pleasure... Why is everything like this?!
Even the sky was saying goodbye to us, crying... And there hadn't been rain in California for half a year...
No one is there. Nothing is there. Only the porthole and the night life of the state remain... Down there... Constant movement and lights. Toy cars cross toy roads... Toy houses blink with signs, the inscriptions on which can no longer be made out... And everything lives, everything breathes... Los Angeles... Our city... A city alive and full of strength...
Everything is behind us. Clouds (not just wisps) cover the views. There is nothing left. No California below. No hope ahead. No tears in our eyes. No phone numbers...
There is only memory. Of this summer. Of this place. And of these people.
