Natural Histories: Stories

Начало книги

Our last red fish, Oblomov, died yesterday afternoon. I had a feeling he was going to, having barely seen him move in his round fishbowl for some days. He didn’t leap either as he used to for food or to chase the rays of sunlight that brightened his habitat. It was like he was a victim of depression, or its equivalent in the life of a fish in captivity. I came to know very few things about this animal. Very few times I peered through the glass of his bowl and looked him in the eyes and when I did, it wasn’t for very long. It pained me to see him there, alone, in his glass container. I very much doubt he was happy. That’s what most saddened me when I saw him yesterday, floating like a poppy petal on the surface of a pond. He, on the other hand, had more time, more serenity to spend watching Vincent and me. I am sure that in his way he too felt sorry for us. You tend to learn a lot from the animals you live with, even fish. They are like mirrors that reflect the buried emotions and behaviors we don’t dare see.

Читать дальше →