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Quote by Ганна Улюра

“Він тепер переконаний, що знає, як жити на війні. Він помиляється. На могилі матері Джібле злиться: друзі, які за нею пильнували, доглядальниця, яку він з США оплатив, ніхто йому не зателефонував і не повідомив, що стан дуже старої жінки погіршується; він сам час до часу дзвонив сусідам матері, але ті теж нічого конкретного не казали. Джібле злиться: чому вони всі такі байдужі до його почуттів! Уявили собі місто, в якому тривають бої, чи згадали собі таке місто? Від старості помирає жінка. Її треба зараз спробувати підтримати і дати гідно піти, у місті нема навіть їжі, не те що ліків. Її треба буде поховати, а в місті стільки мертвих тіл щодня, що грифи і марабу ще двадцять років житимуть на центральних вулицях, наче ті голуби в Венеції. Саме цієї миті треба шукати можливість телефонувати її синові в США. Який приїде лише через десять років... Усе ж ясно, правда?”

Quote by Ганна Улюра

Book:Писати війну
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Писати війну

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Ганна Улюра

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