Slavic soul

[:en]At times, there is nothing like three friends chatting over a few beers…
My companions were fascinating, though they could hardly be more dissimilar: Roman, tall and corpulent, was a bachelor in his full forties, an intelectual, well cultured, the nationalist type, rather pessimistic and, most of all, deeply sentimental; Olek, on the other hand, was a womanizer in his late thirties, married of course, a merry and optimistic spirit, some of a petit bourgeois, very laid back, rather took on the pro Russian side. Each in their own way, they both were true slavic souls.
I was lucky to meet them thanks to some website. Sitting at a table in that popular restaurant near Khreshchaty, we talked of course about women, love and friendship, those three fundamentals of life. And I was moved to see how much empathy they both had for the hearbroken people, for the sorrowful ones, for the unhappy; how much sincere compassion. Also, I was surprised at their extraordinary insight when guessing some facts about my life, surprised at how they managed to read my truth through but only a few words from me. Their intuition was so piercing that, I must confess that, at first I was a bit bothered: they drilled my shell down to my deepest secrets. But I soon realized their support, their solidarity, and this made me feel understood and comforted. Pure Russian spirit, they were.
Half a dozen beers sufficed to do the magic, and it was almost with tears in our eyes that we parted. None of us dared to say what we were all thinking: that I would never ever meet them again. Roman hearfeltedly shook my hands and, after warmly hugging me, disappeared down the subway steps, resolutely, without looking back. Then Oleg and me took the same mashrutka for a strech. His stop was first. When he stepped off, he stood there on the street for a while, piercing at me through the dusty windows, like a child who’s left behind, until the bus started and our visual link was broken by the distance and the street posts…
Sometimes this wonderful, authentic people come across the traveller’s path; persons who stake out our lives and make everyone else in between seem mediocre and superficial.[:]

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