Ol'ga : Glyadya v svoe proshloe inogda stanovitsya zhutko, a inogda smeshno. Navernoe eto i est' zhizn'

Kto skazal, chto zhizn' uchit? Chto ona posylaet nam tol'ko te ispytaniya, kotorye my v sostoyanii vynesti? No razve proydya vse eto my ostaemsya takimi zhe? Eto malo pokhozhe na vnimatel'nogo uchitelya, a skoree kak bezzhalostnyy ubiytsa ona raschlenyaet nashi dushi i serdtsa, brosaya v nebytie blizkikh nam lyudey, zabiraya vse samoe tsennoe, ostavlyaya tol'ko somnitel'nye uvereniya, chto vse naladitsya. Stoit li udivlyat'sya, chto poproshchavshis' s yunosheskoy naivnost'yu my stanovimsya tsinichnymi i cherstvymi. My ne tol'ko ne mechtaem, a dazhe boimsya mechtat', ne reshaemsya sblizhat'sya v strakhe, chto i eto u nas otberut... No mozhet vse zhe pomechtaem? Risknem eshche razochek? Mozhet, v etot raz proskochim? Nadezhda ved' umiraet posledney.