We could spend hours at a glass of red wine in her country house, discussing philosophy, universe, life and certainly English was a must in there. Julia loved to find aesthetics and sense in every moment of life. Her children adored me – three wonderful boys of 12, 8 and 5 years old. After Iliya’s death, she could not push herself to start a new relationship.

“They all are a cheap imitation of him. We were a single unity in everything: sense of humor, attitude, music, leisure… Such kind of love happens once in a century, real and sincere. I have three gifts from him and he lives in them and in me. I love him and will love him, while the rest are just fake, when compared to him. People, like him, are no longer released for me. I wish every woman to know such kind of love. There wasn’t a single day off so that I didn’t have flowers. He was a wizard and fulfilled all my desires. I was a woman next to him and he was a man, and now my memory doesn’t even give me a chance…”

No, she pulled herself together after the death and even went to dates a couple of times. There were many beaus around, but she didn’t see such a worthy father for her children as Iliya was among them.

I remember we went to Kiev together, to take an IELTS test. Before the exam we called to my friend’s restaurant for a dinner. It was a Friday evening. The three of us were sitting, eating and chatting about life. Then Kir says: “Do you mind if Vadim, my partner, joins our company for a bit now?” We were certainly not against. Would even be better, more fun. Vadim was a 36 years old businessman. Tall, handsome and successful. He was used to female attention and, clearly, did not care to deprive himself from that attention. He flirted with us kissing our hands on the occasion of the acquaintance and saw a huge scorch on Julia’s forearm. With sympathy and dalliance, he concerned:

“Where did you get this one?”

“Well, I was changing the blackbody in a thermal imager during its calibration.”

I could see, how Vadim was starting to get a cognitive dissonance. The ‘pull was becoming the push’ and his face became the bewilderment itself. Then I saw an Error message at the display of his consciousness and he writhed out:

“Oh, well … well … well then, put ointment to heel it.”

After that, for some reason, he promptly retreated to sort out some ‘business matters’ and my friend from Kiev, Kir, laughed over than situation for a long while. I don’t know how the dialogue would have gone if Julia had said: “Well, I was cooking pies.” I have a feeling that Vadim would not appear to have any business matters then. For some reason, our modern world does not really encourage intelligent women.

“Well, Marie, why would I need a ‘Jonny pal’ smarter than I. I want a home kitty, eating out of my hand. As for your Julius, I’m even afraid to approach her. She is a beautiful, but dangerous, viper. What would I need her for?” stated my friend Danya after that incident.

Therefore, Julia was completely immersed into projects, children and life and Iliya lived next to her, but in a different dimension.

Having entered the office, I took off the uniform gown. When you put it on, you put on your profession. Your life circumstances become unimportant and you immerse yourself into the world of patients. You experience patients’ difficulties and pains, learn about their thoughts and soul and then disconnect, isolate the symptoms, bring them into syndromes and already prescribe a therapy. Why can’t it be the same with life?

I leave the department at 20.30. I am in no hurry to go home and ponder over all of my suitors in my mind. Kolya, the one I dated for a year at the university, was not approved by my mother. Oleg haunted at discount cheese in supermarket and took home wine leftovers after visiting friends. He blamed me of wasting my student allowance “in the wrong direction”. “Why buying that expensive Ruby Rose cosmetics, while you can manage without it, you still look fine”, he used to say. I fear of men of this kind, because “pettiness of the person equals to pettiness of the soul”. Having a family with the one of these, means to report on every slip for carrot, bought in a convenience store in detail, answering “where did you spend the money, spendthrift?” questions. Definitely negative, while the rest were just of no interest to me. Immersed in these thoughts, I took out my favorite record of Frédéric Chopin and plunged into the stunning emotional world of plot and sound beauty. I don’t remember the author but I read it somewhere: “Music is stronger than love.”

It can put you up to heaven or throw down into the depths of the most mournful emotion. Through the centuries Chopin’s music makes you feel your own soul's vibrations.

My love for daily duty shifts did not run out. Despite the years, the belief that the beauty of extreme psychiatry and human souls was revealed during shifts, remained an axiom.

Sunday, 8.15 am, 1200 patients are under my supervision. I am a single psychiatrist for the whole hospital and the city. It is beastly cold. Two winter jackets, felt boots (or “moon boot” to put it in a more fashionable way), a warm pullover and a white robe somewhere inside of that garment burger. That electricity saving simply kills, since it blows from every crack. As always, beset by case histories, I sit and write up everything, I didn’t have time to, as the work load is huge. Thirty patients solely for me. Annie is in love. She is almost invisible in the department. Sometimes, she is on a sick leave or vacation. Maxim has completely absorbed her. She has changed recently. She became twitchy and lost in weight quite a lot. Well, as it goes, “love is blind.”

Saving the world and the souls is a very noble occupation that, nevertheless, involves bureaucracy, where “you should file and log every patient not for yourself, but for the persecutor attorney. In psychiatry you’ve got to keep an eye out”, as our beloved Señor Pablo says. Sometimes it seems to me that there is something human and kind in him, but then some situation appears. Like, for example, a joint round over the department before elections. The Head of the Department, Annie and I coddle every patient. Pablo ceremoniously examines the entire department, checks the surfaces with white handkerchief, all the staff trembles, we enter the ward and he asks one of the patients:

“How are you feeling?” She is a complicated case – a moderate depressive episode, with a sleep disorder. She starts answering him:

“Oh, it’s all bad. I can’t sleep. When I close my eyes all the relatives, that passed away, climb into my head. The chest is burning, I feel sick at heart and see no future. Living like this is…“

Pablo interrupts her mid-sentence, puts his hand on her shoulder and says:

“It’s all fine, will you vote?“

At such moments, you realize: “Oh, Miss Clover, silly is the though you bare in your head. What was all that ‘human’ about?” I sit, write out endless amount of paper and, when it gets especially hard and I clearly desire to send everything to hell, I imagine that as soon as I am done, I’ll hear applauses. A handsome man in a formal dress will invite me to the stage and announce: ‘The literary award of the year goes to… Maria Clover!!!’ The storm of applause and standing ovation will follow his words and there I enter in a fancy floor skimming black dress with an opening over my leg. I wear gorgeous make-up. My short black hair is beautifully styled and as I walk my high heels through, all the men turn to watch me go. I wink at one of the handsomes, while entering the stage…