Moscow. Winter. Snowy. A small boy is playing football on the snow. Suddenly - the sound of broken glass. Severe Russian janitor runs out with a broom and starts chasing the boy.
The boy is running and thinking “Why? Why all this? Why the image of a street-boy, why football, why all these stupid friends? What’s the point? I have already done my homework- why am I not home on the sofa reading my favorite Ernest Hemingway novel?”.
Meanwhile in Havana. Ernest Hemingway is sitting in his cabinet trying to finish the new novel and thinking:
“Why? Why all this? This Cuba, beaches, bananas, rum, heat and stupid people here. Why am I not in Paris with my best friend, a great French writer, Andre Maurois and two beautiful courtesans, drinking our morning aperitif and discussing meaning of life?”
Meanwhile in Paris. Andre Maurois is in his bedroom in Paris with a beautiful courtesan, drinking his morning aperitif and thinking:
“Why? Why all this? This Paris, arrogant French, dumb whores, this fucking Eifel tower. Why am I not in Moscow, where its cold and snowy, sitting on the kitchen with my best friend, a great Russian writer, Andrei Platonov drinking vodka and discussing the meaning of life”.
Meanwhile in Moscow. Cold. Snowy. Andrei Platonov. Wearing earflaps. With a broom in his hands. Chasing the boy and thinking :”Just let me fucking catch you, you little bastard”.
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