Vasil. Hey, you, go to hell!
Alla. Are you serious?
Tomov. I told you this is an anecdote.
Alla. No, I mean are you serious that those guys are really going to change mountains for pigs?
Tomov. I am not kidding. Vasil, I saw you yesterday reading a book. What was the title?
Vasil. Yesterday? Oh, yes! It was «Breeding of Sows at the Arctic Circle”.
Tomov. He is an expert, I told you! Are you also keen on these grunting creatures?
Alla. Are you crazy? I don’t care about this pig’s life!
Anna. What did you say!
Alla. What’s the matter?
Anna. Aren’t you a Muslim?
Alla. Oh, my God!
Anna. The Muslims can’t stand pigs. The Koran forbids them. It says that pig is a dirty animal.
Alla. Such a prejudice!
Anna. And what do you know about them?
Alla. About pigs? Actually, I haven’t thought of them…
Anna. In your opinion pigs are just dirt, stench and scream?
Alla. No, it’s also lard and meat.
Anna. By the way, a pig is a very smart animal!
Alla. Smart?
Anna. And noble. There are even poems devoted to pigs.
Alla. I would never think!
Anna. And not bad poems, I tell you. Nobody would write such poems about you, Oleg.
Tomov. You shot me dead, Anna!
Anna. Here you go!
Tomov. I promise you: when I get my own apartment I will buy a little piglet with a pinky snout.
Anna. Are you going to keep it at your balcony?
Tomov. No way! On the rug at the corridor.
Anna. Vasil, did you hear that? What fun!
Vasil. Don’t feel hurt, my girl! He is a good guy.
Anna. I am okay.
Vasil. Well, you said, fifteen hundreds square meters?
Anna. Yes, fifteen. Facing the mountains…
Victor Mancev is sitting on a bench in front of the camp building. Cyril Sumyatov comes out.
Sumyatov. Wouldn’t you mind?
Mancev. No, take a seat. Have you come out to smoke?
Sumyatov. To breath with fresh air.
Mancev. Anyway, help yourself. (Offers him a pack of cigarettes).
Sumyatov. I prefer pipe. (Shows his pipe).
Mancev. Amusing thingy!
Sumyatov. One craftsman carved it. You wouldn’t believe it: when you hold it, it warms you up like a stove. It is absolutely indispensable in the mountains. Especially at nights.
Mancev. You are right, it’s cold here at nights. Although, the stars are bigger and brighter. You just can’t take your eyes of them.
Sumyatov. Charming?
Mancev. I can’t get used to such beauty for many years already.
Sumyatov. One can get used to everything.
Mancev. Eternal mountains, eternal stars, eternal peace – and a human small and fussy. Such a big contrast. I feel it since my childhood.
Sumyatov. Where were you born?
Mancev. At one small town. If you look at the map you can see mountains around it. But in fact it’s located in a valley. There is no even a small hill around up to the horizon.
Sumyatov. It’s amazing!
Mancev. Life is even more amazing.
Sumyatov. So, you didn’t see mountains in your childhood?
Mancev. Sometimes, on a sunny calm day I saw their vague outlines.
Sumyatov. Maybe it was a miracle?
Mancev. The mountains seemed to be painted on a big canvas. But should a slight wind blow they disappeared immediately.
Sumyatov. Did anyone except you see them?
Mancev. Don’t take me for a dreamer or madman.
Sumyatov. Oh, no, I didn’t mean that!
Mancev. Everybody saw them. But most of people just didn’t notice. They were so common for them.
Sumyatov. I quite understand them. Our life is so short. A human doesn’t care about eternal mountains.
