This is a rocking chair. A rocking chair assembled of letters S. Entirely.... No, not entirely. Its back is straight and flat. Though it could be curved a little, a bit S-like, to adjust itself to the curves of human back.
The chair is white. It has many scratches. It is not new. In fact, it is quite old, although does not deserve the label “antique”. It is standing near the window with a beautiful view: soft, round, wavy hills covered with dark green, almost black forest. The hills are flowing, floating and flowing, get to nowhere, they are always here, they always make us think that tomorrow, or in a few days, they will not be here, finally they fill flow away, the green sea will calm down, won't be rough, will smooth the surface, flowers will grow on it..... Oh, it tempts, really it tempts, this armchair.... To sit in it, to rock gently, as if you take a boat and go across undulating green..... So we sit in it. We put our feet on the wooden floor and we push..... What a disappointment! Nothing can be seen through the window! Suddenly the trees, their tops whispering restlessly, which were somewhere down, under our feet, maybe they were but a carpet of underwater algae, exploded upward and veiled the whole window leaving but a narrow ribbon of the sky.....
The rocking chair and the window are in the library. The library is not huge, but enough big to spent in it several years till there won't be any more books to be read..... well, if we read them in various ways, applying different methods, then even a few lives won't suffice.... The armchair, window and library are in the attic. The roof is absolutely normal, pitched, no round parts and elements, no scrolls, no lines winding dangerously – everything is straight, neat, well ordered..... We can keep rocking in the armchair and read, and rock and read, all summer long, all autumn long, till the leaves will fall down and unveil the gentle hills covered with dark green, almost black forest..... unless there are no hills, unless the hills flow away, the thick net of naked twigs and branches, labyrinth of cracks on the glaze of sky won't stop them...


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Sorrow and scandal. Everybody thought “s” is from “super”; apartment is an apartment: comfortable coaches, multimedia, bath-tube big as a small swimming pool, nice music, delicate massage... and there are raw pine planks instead of soft carpets, awful birds screaming outside, rain drumming on the metal roof. Yes, greedy they were, didn't think maybe a mental apartment is here the point.