Mariya Metlitskaya
Slabak
Unabridged
2 hours 33 minutes
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«Chelovek, kotoryy preziraet sebya, vsegda preziraem drugimi. Tak chto vse pravilno. Po zaslugam. Sam vystroil svoyu zhizn i sudbu. Sudba – eto harakter, harakter – eto sudba. U Alekseya nichego v zhizni ne poluchilos. Ni-che-go! A ved kakie nadezhdy podaval! Pravda, davno – v detstve i ranney yunosti. Govorili – talant. Pravda, tak schitala lish rodnya – mama, otets. I konechno zhe, Tyopa. Razumeetsya, nikakoy on ne talant. No sposobnosti byli. Nadezhdy, sposobnosti… I gde eto vse? Vot gde? V kakie bezdny kanulo? Kuda? Neizvestno…»
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