a woman's chore.
Anechka is busier than you.
Why you neglect your man's chores?
Or it is our task to fix
the pavement too?
Why you're trying so hard
to be a typical mother-in-law?
I don't want to,
you make me do it.
I swear, in a week I'll bring
a squad of carpenters,
But please don't
annoy me these days,
I asked for a week off work,
without pay.
What are you saying?
Who will bring home the money?
These holidays of yours will be
on my and Anechka's pockets.
I just want to work
without disturbances.
I have never the time
to do anything.
How much is it
for a week of tranquility?
I'll pay it to you.
Otherwise I won't write a word.
This is not the meatballs.
-Hear this.
"I feel my limits,
I see where my goodness
stops and I become a beast,
Where I shut my eyes
so I won't see...
Where I don't want to understand,
where I shut my eyes not to see.
Money, rage and intolerance have
power on me as on the meanest of men.
They sat on the two
sides of a long table,
Eyes fixed on
the television's glittering.
She munched on nothing,
moving her jaw right to left
not knowing how she's sickening,
Like he who can't keep
his saliva in his mouth
Or who scratch off the dirt
between his feet's toes.
He didn't shave beard,
and it was as soft as jelly.
Mother and father.
You could touch their old age!
It has its smell, you felt it.
It was the most tangible
thing in that room.
I hated old age.
In them I saw just this.
I hated them for being my parents
And I hated myself for that hate.
I was sick to see that my
habits are  my father's ones
And I hated him for it, because
I would have aged just like him,
Because of the shame
for these thoughts.
And it was infinitely multiplying itself,
like a reflection between two mirrors.
A neverending tunnel of hate.
Wall made of hate
and pavement made of hate.
Hate mixed with disgust, shame,
Weakness.
One way out led to cruelty,
the other to reserve,
that is lower your eyes
because you can't mask
their instinctive look.
It is the silence
similar to severed fingers
of the man clutching to the boat
trying not to drown..."
Do you like it?
-Yes.
Is it a novel?
-Or a short story.
Anyway, you have to hurry
if you want to make some money.
Like your friend Serjozha. He's
already member of Writers Guild.
I don't understand,
can you explain?
Your parents are good people,
Where this millioner's
craze came from?
And about your novel,
you still have to write it.
Writers lead a humble life,
they're not so rich.
To be rich you have to save.
Don't drink coffee 180 times
a days in such big cups.
I'll fry the meatballs,
take the pan.
Where are you going?
Where are you going?
Can I have some caviar?
-If you want to.
Open the third can.
Kolja, my love, you
finished all my mother's supply!
There's a lot of vitamins in caviar,
doctor says I need them.
What's up?
What's more important to you,
caviar or my health?
You still have not finished
the second can.
Open it, please.
Mom, we are hungry as wolves!
Kolja, did you eat all caviar?
Sorry, we have
reduced your supply.
She said I can eat.
-I thought you would eat just a little!
Anyway its "best before"
was two months ago.
I just want to be sure you
won't have to beg when I'm dead.
Let me die in peace!
Don't say so.
Don't worry,
When you're dead,
you won't care if we beg.
We will die too,
it's not your privilege.
It's trivial, but
it's not clear to me.
I should study, learn wisdom
Then just to accumulate
honours and wealth?
So I would be better off going
to sleep now, never to awake again.
Not even your daughter understands you.
-What's so difficult to understand in me?
Your incommunicability.
There's a joke about it.
Incommunicability,
communicability in common,
Not a common ability...
I have insomnia.
-Really?
What a symmetry!
When you'll die, we'll be alive.
-I know.
Where's the box that was up there?
It's on its place, can't you see?