Portrait of Diana: a novel

If you fall - you can always get lost, if you lose - find. Just don't lose faith in the one who reached out to help. Because trust is the essence of love. But everything is so difficult in life, not easy in this intriguing novel. Book Review: Unpainted Portrait? (about the work of the Bilyk family from Zborov) Fragment of the text Nemo sibi nascitur (No one is born only for himself). Latin proverb There are many people. The girl studied their legs, not having time to look in the face. From time to time she looked around, turning her chestnut head in all directions. Glancing at someone in the crowd, she ran up, clung to her clothes with her hands, and when she saw the stranger's surprised look, she retreated in confusion. Finally, the fatigue of a hopeless search stopped her. The girl stood in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at her clenched fists. Then she twisted in front of her eyes like pears, then spread out like a frog's paws, and mumbled and mumbled under her nose, sobbing. At first she was bypassed, but in passing someone touched the baby, she twisted like a whirlwind, and found herself in a hectic stream. Immersed, unfortunately, moved with everyone, not ceasing to hum angrily. Passers-by did not listen to what she complained about - everyone had a lot of their own worries. And only near the town hall she was approached by an artist who made sketches for paintings. The funny girl immediately caught his attention. - Baby, hello! Are you lost? The girl looked at him cowardly and angrily replied: - Then my dad was lost, and I can not find him! He laughed. He liked this little torn kitten, which, before speaking, quickly wiped away the tears of despair with his fist - showed character! Observing this, the artist read the fate of the girl with respect and sad eyes of the artist. Whether it is so or not, but the moment is very clear, it is a pity to lose. - What is your name? He asked gently. "Diana," she said, raising her head, and the faint light of hope shone in her eyes again. - My God, what a name! What name! Dianochka, wait, stand like this. I now. Wait, dear girl! I'll draw you. - Have you already drawn your children? Well, why do you look like that? She sighed. - Your voice is like that - father's. Okay, I'm not moving anymore. Draw. However, she lacked the patience to pose. There was a lot of distraction around. The artist smiled at that, said something funny, pointing to the work already started. The girl concentrated for a moment, as if in front of a camera lens. Then it all happened again. "Wow," the artist sighed jokingly, "it's not easy to draw a sunny bunny." But I've already seen you, I've seen it anyway, like this! The girl spun on one leg and asked: - Will you show my portrait? - Definitely. A little more, Dianochka. Well, look up. What's there? - Nothing. Ships do not fly. He laughed again: little dreamer! The girl stopped spinning and looked intently at the artist. "Are you drawing me or the sky?" "This way," said the artist, "this is how you sit on a chair and think to yourself what you want, but don't say it out loud, I'll guess later." Fine? The girl sat down with dignity in a chair and started the game. From that moment on, nothing distracted her. She told a new tale in silence, and every movement of her soul was reflected. The playfulness of the naughty girl, the childlike spontaneity, the cunning determination of the pussy, the wave of confusion yielded to humility, thought or curiosity - and who knows where a woman's sadness flowed down her little face. Strange girl! Finally, the artist called her to him. - Here, look. Do you like it? Mala pulled out her lips and nodded. - Only with a pencil. But from this you can make a beautiful portrait. Well, now… The artist reached into his jeans pocket. Diana watched him dig there, and said firmly, "Don't look!" I won't like the candy in your pocket. He squatted around the bizarre girl. - Fine. I'll listen. You don't have to, you don't have to. But you fought back from your dad, and I have to help you. She shook her head sadly. - You do not understand that you are lying. And swallowing it, he sighed in astonishment: - Well, someone is looking for you? - Mum. She's there. The girl pointed to the gray and white building of the department store. And indeed, a woman ran to them from the other side, shouting something loud. Fashionably dressed, bright in appearance, she already attracted attention with beautiful forms of a young body. It was Inna. Seeing her daughter, she closed her high heels and, unable to keep her balance, sat down on the sidewalk. The ring of the left bag crackled and warped. Diana ran to her mother, but she met her with curses and kicks. "You can't do without adventure, can you?" I wanted to go somewhere! And now, do you see what happened because of you? She tore off her crippled heel and threw it in the trash. She took a step on her heels, then angrily dropped both shoes and led them to the same heel. Irritated, she slapped the baby's hand and walked barefoot to the shoe store. The artist kept his eyes on them. He also wanted to paint his mother, but the woman pulsed with rage so that even in the distance she crushed the image written by the artist's imagination.