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Putin and us

I see Putin sitting at a negotiation table with my Chinese friend. They are against each other, and the Chinese entertains Putin with his jokes the best he can. Both burst into happy laughter. I watch their cooing from somewhere above and feel a pang of jealousy at my very heart. I have to come up with a joke immediately that will make him laugh and show all the wretchedness of Chinese humor.

Finally, I can talk directly to Putin. He is in a gray suit, bald. After having exchanged friendly glances, we both became serious. A Chinese grin melted off his face.

Looking straight into his eyes, I told him the truth, as it is. We, a creative stratum of intelligentsia, are now in an overabundance and must compete brutally in order to survive. A significant portion of us would imminently be slaughtered. The only way to gain visibility and separate yourself from the rest is to show originality. The best way to show originality is to criticize Putin’s regime. Everyone tries the best he can. All these thoughts flashed in my head within a second.

Putin patiently looked at me with his dreary pale-blue pigeon-like eyes crossed by a thin bloody vein and waited.

“Long live the President of Russia!”, with all the strength of my lungs shouted I.

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