Oh, yeh… that’s Martha’s way: “oh oh” – and she’s beetled off.

“That’s what I can’t get my head around” – she was telling a bit out of breath to the Blue Tiger, who was walking grandly next to her. “Has the world turned upside down, or is it me standing on my head?”

The Blue Tiger squinted at her, without really turning his muzzle, grunted, stared blithely at the horizon, and continued wagging his behind in a soft cat trot.

“No, please understand,” she persisted, jumping over yet another fallen tree, “I don’t know what to choose: should I live without understanding the world or should I accept that the world doesn’t understand me?! This is vital! Everything depends on it! Either I will have to learn the art of vanity and blame the whole world or learn to exist in depression and progress in self-flagellation. Can’t you get it?”

“Why are you running, my dear?” asked the Blue Tiger without turning his muzzle and just jiggling his tail in displeasure.

“I’m running away.”

“Yet no one is chasing you.”

“True… Obviously…” Martha stopped abruptly.

 The Blue Tiger also stopped. He sat down leaning against the tree. With his long, striped tail, he flapped on the fold of his beige trench coat, and with one deft movement of his paw, caught the joint that flew out of his pocket. He lit it and took a long lazy toke and offered the joint to Martha. Martha pulled on her shades, fixed her dress, and sat across.

“I really don’t understand,” continued the Blue Tiger, blowing the smoke out.“You are running away from a choice, aren’t you?”

“No, no! Of course, not. I’m running from the groom. I’m straight from the wedding.”

“Judging by the black veil, from your own wedding, as far as I understand.”

“Well, yes.”

“Then, you are selfish, my dear.”

“I beg your pardon? You are wrong here. In this case, I’m, quite on the contrary, making sacrifices for the good of society.”

“Well,” Blue Tiger relit the pot, “this is a completely different matter. Let’s go on, then.” He handed the joint to Martha.

“Thank you,” Martha responded politely and pressed her lips to the joint.

“I’ve heard, and please correct me if I’m wrong,” said the Tiger crossing his legs, “That people need ongoing communication with each other, and moreover, this connection is exclusively energetic. Is it true?”

“Right. There are several interpretations, though; some folks still talk about chemistry, instincts, or smell, but in general, you are absolutely right.”

“I’ve also heard that people are constantly craving for new energy, that you are addicted to the very process of searching and anticipation.”

“This is also true. People are narcomaniacs of their own illusions and vices. But what are you getting at?”

“I mean that I would call you, Martha, a human if it were not for your wing instead of your left arm. Therefore, most of your heart, where the quills of feathers do not reach, is human. So, you are more than infected with the humanity virus??”

Martha took off her glasses and stared at the Blue Tiger.

“That’s gibberish, my dear friend,” she answered defiantly. “Are you trying to convince me that I’m infected with feelings? Human feelings???”

“I wanted to, but I didn’t expect such an arrogant protest on your part.”  The Tiger took offence at Martha’s tone, sprawled and stared at the sky.

“Don’t you know,” Martha continued authoritatively, crawling slowly on her knees, closer to the Blue Tiger, “in order to be able to feel, and I mean really feel, you have to give the other person your entire heart? Wholly.”

The Tiger turned his muzzle and brushed his nose in Martha’s face. He looked fearfully into her frightened eyes and hugged her with his huge fluffy paws.

“Martha, my darling, but you are wounded.”

“I know, – said Martha, – closing her eyes and trying to dive deeper into the wild cat’s embrace.”

“Maybe you should cry? I’ve heard this is a great illusion of panacea.”