So he ran away to hostel.
While he was telling this story, we noticed that his hands, stroking his mustache and chin, slightly shook; and the brown eyebrows over his eyes angrily knitted, not allowing a big stream of emotions to escape outside. It seemed that the dam was just about to fail, and the naked human soul hidden in those eyes would appear before everyone in its true form.
The ice-cream man deeply sighed for several times, but he excellently coped with the internal nervousness which had seized him that minute. Suddenly smiling, he told us that before coming to the hostel, he felt himself devastated, just like a piece of ice. And now, his feelings and emotions began to come to life.
Telling his story, it was as if he endured it anew. And it gave rise to new associations, and was an inspiration source. That evening, he promised that in honor of everyone who sat with him that day, he would create a unique taste of ice cream and would call it by our names. He peered at us, trying to remember. Honestly, it seemed to me that I could already see my own copy in the crackling wafer cup.
The evening smoothly came over to another set of stories. And though calm talks by a fireplace were similar to the murmur of a stream – calmed and pacified – I noticed that Santa, with a complacent smile, wrote down his ideas, attentively studying us one by one.
At this moment, I came up with an absolutely crazy idea. “You turn us into ice cream; you’re a wizard. You know all about it. You also tell so fabulously about ice cream that even those who were indifferent to this delicacy are now ready to love it with all their hearts and enjoy the taste. And what ice cream would you fall in love with? Carelessly? Don’t you still have a favorite ice cream that would steal your heart forever, having become a real diamond in your collection of masterpieces?
Our ice-cream man seemed to choke with indignation. Of course he had such an ice cream! Every ice cream was a part of his soul, but there was one he had created for himself.
And here, it became clear to our kind, dear Santa what I was trying to tell him. My God! If he could turn people into ice creams, what if he made it a backward process, and found his desired delicacy in female form?
The idea filled him with such enthusiasm that he nearly ran outside to Paris at night in search of “the one”. Of course, such ardency could be caused by the cognac, whose aroma was felt by all of us as soon as Santa crossed the threshold of the hostel; but the direction was right by all means.
The next day, Santa left us, having already packed his things; and said goodbye with a sly wink. Surely, we knew where we could find our ice-cream man, not to lose sight of him forever. But something prompted me that day that he would be presenting his new collection “Parisian Hostel” in the company of his second half, so similar to his best diamond work.
Chapter 4. The Golden Woman
Have you ever thought about the meaning of habitual and (at the same time) modified expressions? For example, if someone could perfectly craft, repair, sew, and create something by himself, people would say that he has golden hands. If a person was kind, sincerely helped everyone and responded to any requests, he was called a golden man…
Now, typically unremarkable youngsters whose vital values are very doubtful are often called “golden boys”; although it seems to me that such “gold” is fake. And it’s not even very shiny… Naturally gifted people shall enter the epic battle for a place in the sun against those whose parents have already bought it. And if there is no way to “book a place in the sun” immediately, then at least get the opportunity to take it over by means of knowledge and skills.
