The Island of Golden Zandolie. Лилия Кадет

the house, but in complete isolation. Not a single road nearby. Even if I wanted to, I would not run anywhere. Behind the beach, there are solid impenetrable forest and mountains, and swimming to the nearest fishing village is too far. It only seems that the village is close…”

      Marley looked Julia in the face, but she quickly averted her eyes. He hugged her, but she pulled away and kept asking questions.

      “Do you have relatives or friends? Do you work somewhere? After all, food and things are coming from somewhere.”

      Marley’s eyes got even bigger.

      “Julia, if you want to leave, I'll take you.”

      Julia turned to him and looked into his eyes.

      “I love you, Marley, and I want to know everything about you!”

      It was said so calmly and confidently! A petit Julia, whose only large in size were breasts, looked upwards at the mountain of muscles of bronze Marley. He appeared like an ancient demigod, who decided to sit down and rest after numerous exploits.

      Julia suddenly felt her strength and power over him. She herself was amazed at her declaration of love and sudden self-confidence.

      Marley stared at her for a long time, wide-eyed. Then he somehow went limp and turned his face to the sea. From him poured a long story, which he uttered almost in a whisper, never once glancing at Julia.

      “I don't know where I am from. I was picked up and brought up by an old fisherman, he found me in a garbage can one early morning… Some girl just left the newborn in the garbage and ran away. The fisherman was going to sea, the sun was just beginning to emerge… And he took me as his son. His whole family died a long time ago at sea… And we were both alone. He was a Rasta man and loved Bob Marley very much, and named me after him. He was an old man and died long ago… But he managed to raise me and teach me to fish. I never went to school. I spoke with a nun at the public library who taught me how to read. I even donated a couple of books there. My father could neither read nor write… I think he never had any papers either. We built this house together, away from the village. I do communicate with other people, but out of necessity. I feel good alone, I'm used to it. And now I feel good with you. I thought I'd help you get better and then take you home. But I feel good with you – we feel good together, right?”