The bolt with a crunch is turned out from a hand, generating at each turn a sharp pain. I almost see the big, rusty, iron body with
a thick spiral and the huge hat covered with scratches and dents where the screw-driver broke from the groove intended for it,
and in a counterbalance of narrowed cutting the world round me starts to extend, time is accelerated, water loses a viscous
crystal transparency, minor defects in it in the form of the smallest vials of air expand grey metastasises, and it turns to a usual
water liquid, povanivajushchuju bleaching powder and a rust, eyes start to distinguish any white background in which rough
squares of a tile, a redness of a rust about a water drain are gradually shown except the mutilated hand, the bath, whose
whiteness in actual fact that does not appear, and becomes not well-groomed yellowness of the enamel peeled in the places, in
a corner of eyes the brilliant nickelized pipe which there and then is becoming covered by dregs of a rust and pomjatostej as if
having grown old for a second sprouts at first, Then there are ugly knobs of cranes of hot and cold water which are
indistinguishable on colour, but fine differ on use degree - cold gleams from numerous contacts of a hand, and red has soured in
inactivity. Together with sight comes back...