Two smell of capitalism (story-essay)

Collage Joe Webb.
It’s almost documentary story-essay about the event that happened to me. It is not invented nothing more than a few epithets, emotional evaluations. It is a literary treatment of life. How she managed to handle author to the reader to judge, and how it managed to survive the author.

I entered the car of the Moscow metro late in the evening. Passenger crowd had gone to their apartments, fate, happiness and hardship. The car is almost empty. I sat down and suddenly felt a sharp cloying smell of expensive perfume.
A little far from me, imposingly sprawled, sat some shiny lady with a strong Rublevskoe social origin. It oozed all over the car synthetic fiber obsessive-cloying perfume. It was difficult to determine her age – so artificially rejuvenated look on her face, and, perhaps, Vice versa – it was a young girl in mask surgical operations. Plastic lining as a rule lead to the face and girls and older women age to some common denominator, when it to accurately determine their age becomes impossible. The face was attached various accessories Rublevskoe luxury of life, from close, from afar looking in the total mass as a pink-fur spot.
How she ended up here – was social psychology is the real mystery. Typically, such “swell” Petrovskoe dungeon bypassed, or, more precisely, circle Mercedes cars. Some do not even suggest the existence of such a form of “nosebridge” mode of transport.
Thus, psychological science is silent about the causes of this incident. I reflexively assumed that must be the cork on the Earth’s surface forced her to go down to that “dungeon of hell”. However, no interest in it the lady puppet form did not show, if it did not exist, and the fact of her presence remained unknown and a mystery to herself.
Buried in fashionable gadget, the lady did not notice the noise as if he was in the process of teleportation of his body from one point of his luxury life to another. It is formatted in the luxury of the brain was not even the shadow of a hypothesis, what can happen what happens at the next stop. And it is the horror of “social hell” in all its charms invaded her prosperous life is inevitable and inexorable smell.
The door opened, and into the aisle, I noticed this in his peripheral vision, swam a shapeless black lump, dressed in several layers of dirty rags, coats, coats, some crazy scarves- Homeless woman. First and final that intruded into the carriage before she walked in was the smell. Anyone who regularly uses the subway, knows this smell. A detailed description of its origin may experience only one feeling – nausea. This black, impenetrable, fetid, overwhelming, unbearable scent. Hold your breath to avoid it with horror counting down the seconds until the next breath of air. And then in one moment breathe it in, the stench and again, waiting, not breathing. And it’s burning flood poured into your lungs.
A lump rose in the middle of the car a stone statue. The train started, but it didn’t even posylochnogo – so firmly and steadily pull the weight of all these foul-smelling things.
But even the stench could not kill the first cloying smell-doll. These two smell somehow intricately intertwined with each other as well as accidentally met these two opposite life – life scum bag-lady and life descended into the subway pomaded elderly virgin (or young woman). Two smell stressed and aggravated with each other in their contrast and in their merger was born of some hideous new hue.
As far as the fetid smell of the black blocks were unbearable for me, a man prepared in such “surprises” of the subway, so, no ten – thousandfold it was unbearable for this accustomed only to sweet perfume. Perhaps for her it was the equivalent of “gas chambers”, I’m sorry, but this comparison comes to mind.
At first she seems not to have realized what was happening: tore the head from the phone and a few seconds in confusion waved it in different directions. Realizing that this does not help, she jumped up and began to dash around the car, as if in agony. Meanwhile, the block calmly and firmly stood in the same place. The contrast was felt not only in the two smells, but in the geometry of their movements.
Two complete opposites, in some inexplicable and incredible way crossed in the same space. I have never witnessed such a violent collision, a meeting of two social opposites, located at the lower and the higher “floors” of society.
And then I thought, or rather felt two different feelings, two different attitudes. On the one hand, I felt the same disgust for both of them. But in the case of Homeless it was a reflex, spontaneous, and in relation to “the lady” – the rational, conscious.
On the other hand, I clearly felt the difference my relationships. Who am I closer? Whose side am I on? As close as I could be, who could ispitati compassion, who was pathetic, the desire to regret. The black block I was able to pity, to sympathize with her, but not a drop something like that in relation to the pool at the end in the opposite corner of the car apartamenai ladies, I was not.
Suddenly, before me personally appeared the visual model of the modern society. In this unique meeting in the subway if they were smooth all the variations, the diversity. Here and now in front of me – in a refined, clearly – was revealed to our society. Some frenzied, shiny wealth at one pole and a creepy, gloomy, fetid poverty on the other. And the void between them.
How many stolen happy days, months, years this bag-lady was placed in each pitulice, fur twist this “lioness”? How much of sweetness and joy was drained from the lives of the black blocks to create this concentrated sugary smell of perfume? How many cries of despair embodied in every clique on the touch screen fashion phone? How many whispers of despair in the rustling folds of her fashionable skirt? Is it possible to calculate this?
What the great scientist was given this formula of human distress, giving birth to the welfare and comfort of others? After all, the principle of conservation of energy applies here, in human society, only formulated differently. If in one place decreases, in other concentrates and going.
The principle of conservation of happiness? No this word is not appropriate. Because happy really this immersed, and, perhaps, drowned in the luxury of “diva”? And, maybe, standing in the middle of the car in the stoic calm of the black lump was tested, and capable of experiencing such heights of happiness, what Ivonna in her field of vision, not dream? Too many questions.
At the next stop a lady predictable bullet flew out of the car and ran to the door, probably to catch a taxi. A lump like a stone statue, and took the train. I walked over to the empty platform and waited for the new train. New trains and new answers.
P. S. a Huge thanks vsilvestrovwho helped me in editing this text.

Translated by Yandex Translate