Oscar Semyonitch And The Financial Nocturne

2024 Author: Harry Day | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 15:43

Oscar Semyonitch and the financial nocturne.

Oskar Semyonitch secretly in the depths of his consciousness admitted the ineradicable commitment of women in love of money, however, his nature restlessly insisted, crumbling snow on the fox's collar, that everything was not so simple. Oskar Semyonich loved to visit Nastasia Fillipovna, noting in himself all the new and new previously unknown sides of the soul, and it cannot be said that this did not comfort him; rather, this fact eloquently convinced him of the need and indisputable usefulness of communication with Nastasya Fillipovna. After all, it is not marvelous, because she, sitting crowned on her plush emerald throne with a downcast gaze just above his right ear, cast on him the spell untouched by time inherent in every woman who entered into an agreement with a higher nature and became an analyst. Oskar Semyonich treated their time together with indescribable trepidation and tenderness, calming both himself and the analyst, casting sleepiness and braiding the plot's sleep into a general haze of unacceptable arbitrariness so characteristic of Oskar Semyonitch. And each time, at the moments of their parting, he carefully took out the thin bills neatly folded in the previously emptied compartment of his wallet, as if no one else could enter this space except Nastasya Fillipovna, and gently, like a creeping cat, he always carried new and crunchy bills on the tea table by the analyst's chair, and a grain of sadness, and a handful of regret, and a little doubt dropped at that moment from the bins of Oskar Semyonitch's carefully ironed shirt, a little self-pity mixed with the haughty gentleness of the movements of the fingers of the giving hand, a little more, and barely a noticeable movement of the phalanx with a finger grabbing the money back to themselves, like a dashing trick in the market square, the pads of the fingers sliding over the bills leaving them alone with the imperishable reality of their joint work, and the hope that there is still a place for a miracle, and sleight of hand, that money suddenly, they will again be in his pocket, and so, every time, he will pull, lay them down, leaving the lichen in the likelihood of reckoning for the undoubtedly higher right to be alone with him.

All this time, while Oskar Semyonich was in his meditative neurotic department, Nastasya Fillipovna furtively stared at the spilled unconscious flowing from Oskar Semyonich's face, these tense eyelids, frozen under the weight of irresponsible dependence, pulled their eyes away, into what was happening, and cheeks like a swollen accordion in the hands of the drunken director of the palace of culture, two inflated drums of hatred, pulsating in an unintentional outburst of residual anger at the impossibility of realizing the buttly sweet incestuous idea of his speedy return to the world of fullness and complete safety. The tragedy of Oskar Semyonitch's life, observed by Nastasya Fillipovna, smoked her fresh idea of the framework of consciousness as such, and of the perfect fluidity of what we used to call the focus of attention, she tied in her inability to give up money already dependent on her, neatly laid on the tea table. and long after Oskar Semyonitch had left, she looked with a predatory glance at the figures showing through in outline on the banknotes and flew away from this rough, aching, creaking sound of the patient's skin length on what seemed to be her, but not yet her, money. For a long time Nastasya Filipovna could not get rid of the sensation of a touch on her face that jumped from the banknotes, she saw Oskar Semyonitch's tense gaze in her eyes, her hand twitched and in a daze flooded the square of truth, tightly clenched her cheeks into a fist and the pulling pain dropped for a couple of sighs the fluttering heart of Nastasya Fillipovna into the abyss of rotten images on the new crisp banknotes humbly buried on the tea table near her emerald throne.