The code

The code 
Heavy raindrops were falling provocatively on my raincoat, but it did not respond with the same tenacity. It looked on impassively. Together with me. Passively beige.
The greyness of the day synchronized with the grey paving stones. Grey depression. Depression rhyming with impression. As does admiral and rear-admiral. Or maybe with anti-depressants. As Marx with Engels.
From inertia, I stopped by a small puddle with an oily patch in the middle. The rain ceased. There was no rain. Where had it gone ?
A light breeze formed the oily patch into a picture. La Gioconda. Mona Lisa. Da Vinci. The DaVinci code. The Leonardo cluster. Anomalous associations. I felt like a millionaire in the Louvre, which had been opened for me on a normally closed day. But the feeling vanished when a three-legged dog stopped by me. Somebody had mutilated it. And it was depressed. Or was it ?
It looked at me with sympathy, even with pity.
Well yes, I only had two legs..

translate from bulgarian: Liz Wales

Comments