They were all covered in her uneven handwriting. Very often her name was written in the notebook. Probably to relieve tension, she wrote her name. But I was more attracted to the first page, where next to her stage name – Lilya Kolyuki – there was another one – Lilya Manylova, that is, her real name, where the first four letters of her surname were underlined with two lines, as if she wanted to cling to the money she had she wasn’t there.
“She probably wanted to write a monologue and joke on this topic, but didn’t come up with anything,” suggested Delilah, looking at this entry in her diary.
“Maybe,” I said quietly.
Delilah and I hovered over her diary, forgetting about time.
Lilya Kolyuki, apparently, wanted to write a text for a stand-up performance, but it was difficult to make out her notes, because she wrote it for herself, and not for us. Her handwriting was uneven, but sometimes it became almost perfect, as if she tried and wrote at the table in silence, alone, when no one bothers her and there is nowhere to rush. Sometimes the entries were interrupted, crossed out, even painted over; in some places we saw ordinary girlish drawings in the form of patterns, hearts and emoticons drawn with a blue pen.
– Why did she take such a pseudonym – Kolyuki? – I asked Delilah. – I know that the kalyuka is an ancient musical instrument. Do you think she meant it?
“I don’t know,” Delilah shrugged. “Maybe she wanted to emphasize her “prickliness” with them. Or the fact that her “thorns” in good hands can become music for the soul, huh? – Delilah looked at me very naively.
“You’re digging too deep,” I smiled. “We’re unlikely to be able to get into her head.” It is quite possible that she did this without any idea, but simply thought the name was “cool” or funny or memorable. In general, in her pseudonym – Kolyuki – I hear a consonance with the surname Pataki or Swarovski. Perhaps she just wanted originality, to be different from everyone else.
***
On the way back, I was already driving, and Delilah was sitting in the back seat, clutching Lily Kolyuka’s diaries to her chest. At first we drove in silence, trying to comprehend this event, and then she opened the diary and began to read out the entries that she could make out.
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