"viktor_pelevin_-_sigmund_in_a_cafe" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pelevin Viktor)

Viktor Pelevin. Sigmund in a Cafe

й Copyright Victor Pelevin
Translated from Russian by Serge Winitzki (c) 1996-1997

Sometimes hidden behind the smooth stone faces of these idols are
labyrinths of cracks and hollows, inhabited by various kinds of birds.
Joseph Lavender, "Easter Island"

He didn't remember such a cold winter in Vienna yet. Every time the
door opened and a cloud of cold air flew into the cafe, he shivered a
little. For a long time no new visitors came, and Sigmund fell into a light
senile nap, but now the door banged again, and he raised his head to look.
Two newcomers just entered the cafe -- a whiskered gentleman and a lady
with a high chignon.
The lady held a long sharp umbrella in her hands.
The gentleman carried a small purse decorated by dark shiny furs, a
little moist from the melted snowflakes.
They stopped at the hat rack and began undressing: the man took off his
overcoat, hung it on a peg, and then tried to hang his hat on one of the
long wooden knobs that jutted out of the wall above the hat rack, but
missed, and the hat fell out of his hand and down on the floor. The man
muttered something, lifted his hat and hung it finally on the knob; then he
hurried to help her take off her furcoat. Relieved of the furcoat, the lady
smiled benevolently and took her purse from him, but suddenly she grimaced
in distress: the lock on the purse had been open, and some snow had fallen
in. She hanged the purse on her shoulder, put the umbrella into the corner
with its handle down for some reason, took her companion's hand and went
with him into the main room.
-- Aha, -- said Sigmund softly and shook his head.
Between the wall and the bar counter, near the table where the
whiskered gentleman and his companion went, was a small empty space where
the barkeeper's children were playing: a boy of about eight in a bulky white
sweater covered with black diamonds, and a girl still younger, in a dark
dress and striped woolen pants. Their playthings, wooden bricks and a
half-deflated ball, lay beside them on the floor.
The kids were unusually quiet. The boy was occupied with a pile of
wooden bricks with painted sides. He was building a house of a somewhat
strange shape, with an opening in the front wall. The house would collapse
time and again, because the opening was too wide and the upper brick would
fall in between the sides. Every time the bricks ended up strewn around the
floor, the boy would sadly pick his nose with a dirty finger and then start
building anew. The girl sat in front of her brother right on the floor,
watching him without much interest and playing with a handful of small
change -- she would lay the coins out on the floor, or gather them in a
small pile and shove it under herself. Soon she was bored with it, she
dropped the coins, leaned aside, grabbed the nearest chair by its legs,
pulled it to her and started moving it around on the floor and pushing the
ball with the chair's legs. Once she pushed too hard, the ball rolled toward
the boy, and his feeble construction collapsed at the very moment when he