The evening in Moscow turned out to be gloomy, as if nature itself had decided to submit to the mood of the main character of this story. The cab driver, an elderly man with thick gray hair, sat in his seat, waiting for passengers at the metro station Baumanskaya. His face was tense, and sparks of irritation flashed in his eyes. He hated the cold evenings when the frost crept under his coat and his legs seemed to lose feeling.
At that moment a tall man in a long coat approached him. It was none other than himself. Vladimir MayakovskyHe looked thoughtful, as if he had just stepped off the pages of his own poem. The cab driver recognized him at once – the poet was known for his sharp style and extraordinary appearance.
"Tell me, my dear sir, what is troubling you so much this evening?" asked the poet, getting into the cab and adjusting his chestnut hair. The cab driver chuckled with displeasure, but still answered: "Ah, Mr. Writer, I don't understand which women are better - those with light or dark hair. Lately this has been bothering me."
Mayakovsky smiled, his face brightening. "You probably know that beauty is not just the color of your hair. It is in your words, your actions, your soul. But tell me, what brought you to such thoughts?"
The cab driver sighed and began his story. He had recently given a lift to a lady, a blonde with a shining smile and a ringing laugh that resembled the ringing of bells. She was cheerful and friendly, and her bright aura remained in his thoughts for a long time.
However, the next day he met a brunette. Her gaze was as deep as night, and her voice was as soft as velvet. She spoke of poetry, of life, and the cab driver was charmed by her wisdom and calm.
Mayakovsky listened to him, then said: “Light or dark – it doesn’t matter if their soul shines brighter than the sun.” He stood up, leaving a few coins on the seat, and headed towards the darkening horizon, leaving the cab driver in thought.
The sky began to cloud over, but the cab driver no longer felt the cold. He began to think that perhaps the truth lies in people themselves, not in their appearance. The writer was right - beauty really is in the soul.
***
Of course, this is a joke, and there is no real basis for this story - just a little imagination and for the sake of a smile! And if you are interested in real facts and events, we invite you to the excursions of the "Radius" bureau, where real history comes to life!