What's the last thing you remember after you've forgotten everything?

My hair is frizzy and I love the colour blue. My eyes are closed. Three years ago today I cut my hair down to a few millimetres. Now it's grown back frizzy. I am underwater in a train. I can see through water. It goes up like walls high into the sky. Everyone is sleeping, these luminous creatures. I seem to be asleep too.

Judith touches her hair.

- 23. If I may, by the window. Thank you.

A woman at the window compares Judith's photo to her face. Then stamps a ticket that comes out of the wall. Judith picks up her suitcase and heads towards the tunnel. Once in the train, she leans against the window and falls asleep. She dreams of herself in June, in that fog. The silence of a rumbling train, holding a hardcover Shmelyov. It is asleep too, in her lap. 

The wind plays with your hair, it curls in the wind. You're standing on the bridge and smiling. You're wearing the jacket I love; you're thirty-two. For your birthday, I gifted you a little Statue of Liberty. I smile. My hands are shivering with cold. You put your arms around me, and we look out at the river. This is how I always remembered you. It smells like flowers and snow, just because we dream about it. Your fingers obey you, like everything in you. We stand on the bridge.

Under the bridge cars flow. We can materialise a few branches with white flowers and birds on them. One of them lands on my index finger, and a moment later flies away. Let the birds go, goodbye birds!

- I want my freedom! - thought the bird, and shouted - Let me go!

'I am alone on the train,' thought Judith through sleep, 'I see a woman up ahead: two magical protuberances, all glowing. She has eight deflectors, two by two by two. Where did she earn them?

- Why did she give them to me, for they are so beautiful? - the woman thinks.

- They are so beautiful... I wonder who? - Judith thinks, and then remembers the statue of liberty.

- My roses, and I hold them to my chest, they are so beautiful.

- Like the Statue of Liberty,' I add.

- They're so beautiful...

- Like London," I join the woman's thoughts again.

You can hide. Try it and even your own shadow won't find you. And don't ever get on a bus - they all go the wrong way. It's like the Tokyo Metro, but even worse. Do you know why? Because everyone walks. No one takes buses. I know. They're for tourists, and they go wherever they want, but not where they need to. They are for those who work at night.

Judith wakes up to the noise. A stewardess brings water. Judith asks for boiling water and drinks two glasses.

Fish, snakes, crocodiles, stereosaurus, brontosaurus, spotted flying toads, werewolf gophers, giant mousetrap anteaters, long-eared young men, rush to the exit in droves, scuffing the seats with their tails and needled backs. Everyone loves you. And this woman thinks, how beautiful, how beautiful... Why did she give them to me? How beautiful...

- Like my Statue of Liberty, Judith adds. She takes a breath and gets on the train. Leaning against the window, she falls asleep.

- They're beautiful, the woman continues. Yes…, Judith sighs. The woman has two glowing protuberances and eight two-by-two deflections, and she thinks about how beautiful her roses are.

- I wonder where she got them from? Judith thinks with eyes closed. She has a dream about a train under water. Judith isn't Judith at all. And it's not Judith sleeping on the train, Shmelev is about to slip out of her arms and dive under the seats.

- For your birthday I gave you a little Statue of Liberty, Judith whispers. And I smile, my hands trembling from the cold. You hold me in your arms, and we look out at the river. This is how I always remember you. It smells like flowers and snow, just because we know how it is. Your fingers obey you, like everything in you. We stand on the bridge.

Cars flow. We can materialise some branches with white flowers, and birds on them. One of them lands on my index finger, and flies away. Let the birds go, goodbye birds.

- Why did she give them to me...? - the woman comes alive again.

- They are so beautiful... - Judith says, "I wonder who? 

- My roses! And I hold them to my chest, they're so beautiful...

Birds' wings are getting louder. Judith wakes to a noise. A stewardess in blue uniform is serving tomato juice with a spicy black sauce. Judith asks for boiling water and drinks a glass.

"I live in a well," thinks the girl with pins in her hair. - When I see you, or when I don't know if you really exist," the young man in love sighs, stretching his legs under the chair in front of him.

- When I stop feeling separated, Judith thinks, or are those someone else's thoughts. Whose?

The statue of freedom shatters with a crash. Scattered shards glitter across the sky. One of them falls to the ground and hits someone in the eyes, causing his heart to freeze. You stare incredulously, What will I say? What will I say in the next moment? And then? Time shatters with a crash and I stare at the shards still flying across the sky.

That’s the best thing that could have happened to a stone statue, whispers Judith, before falling asleep again.

Written in 2004, translated in 2021