The Lady from the Snowdrift

Could anyone believe that a fragment of a phone conversation accidentally overheard in a Paris café could become a turning point in Timur’s fate—confusing his already not-so-simple and very ambiguous life even more? But as a result, it will force him to reconsider much and return to the origins…

Everything irritated me! And what the hell was I doing here in Paris again? Stupid inertia. What did I expect to find? Just Paris? But it’s not really Paris anymore—more like some Middle Eastern city with the outlines of Paris. And this cramped, unbearable room in what was supposed to be a respectable hotel, these breakfasts after which you immediately look for somewhere to grab a bite… But since I flew in, I have to fulfill my obligation. Yes, the pre-Christmas decoration of the city makes bearable what seems utterly alien here. Or maybe I’m just getting older—maybe it’s not Paris and migrants, but me?

Yes, perhaps…

Many years ago he also arrived in Paris for Christmas—and he was just as nervous. And suddenly, in the shop window on Montmartre, he saw a painting: a small picture, absolutely realistic—winter scenery. It was called “Winter Landscape with a Bullfinch.” In fact, nothing special about it. Just viburnum bushes in a snowy garden, red berries frozen on the branches, and a bullfinch pecking at those berries. Then his heart beat so strangely… That was a picture from his childhood. There were also two viburnum bushes in the garden of their parents’ home, and bullfinches often appeared there too.

— Tima! — his mother called. — Go quickly, look how beautiful!

And they stood together, admiring those wonderful birds. He went into the shop and literally bought the picture for pennies.

— Who is the author? — he asked the owner.

— I don’t know. It’s signed with just one letter—A. Some man brought it in to sell, but no one bought it. And I like it. You know, I’m from Russia, and it brings back memories… of something that wasn’t… The seller smiled sadly.