On a glorious summer day, I was driving, lost in thoughts about my own complexes—clearly intending to sort them out. I’ve noticed more than once: as soon as I wish for something and relax, continuing to live as I always have, magically everything comes true. I wanted to quit smoking and still smoked a pack a day. But I knew deep down it would happen on its own. And it did.
My body gradually made it clear that it had already quit smoking; all that was left was for me to catch up with it. Somehow, the dependency passed. And really—why “somehow”? Aren’t we all magicians?
So there I was, driving down the sun-drenched street, and I said to myself, “I want the situation to resolve itself.” The sun gently caressed me, and the wind flirted with my hair through the open window. I felt a bit sad, but I knew the solution was on its way. And of course—it came.
I turned onto Ordynka Street, and a funny thought crept in: “What if there’s no one else in this world but you?” Just me. My imagination didn’t hesitate. In an instant, it painted a world where there wasn’t a single living soul besides me. The street was deserted. People vanished. Bam! Wow. The world—mine.
In this world, I’m the only one, which makes me the most important person. The honorary queen. The honorary saint. Since I’m alone here, I can set any rules I want. This is my world. I can work or be lazy, study or do nothing, create or rest. It’s entirely up to me. I surveyed my domain and saw fertile land, beautiful forests, decent cities.
There’s wildlife. My castle is modest but charming—not perfect, but I love doing repairs with my own hands. I can do anything here. In my world, I’m the mistress. I’ll establish laws I believe in—fair, useful, or none at all. I might rewrite the sciences. I’ll build a magical world—my world.
And because there’s only one person here—me—there are no judgments. None! What a discovery! Everything—beauty, intelligence, kindness—is judged only by me. I am the measure of all things. The sunrise this morning? Worth three hundred Natashas. The moon’s lullaby last night? Three more. The affection I gave my cat? Half a Natasha. The love in the entire world? One full Natasha.
In my world, I am the crowned queen and forever Miss Universe. The Honorary Saint. The Scholar. The Pilgrim. The Student. In my world, I am the definition of Justice and Wisdom. I am happy in my world. It’s a perfect habitat. Anything imperfect—we’ll repaint and repair.
And then, I saw people again. Cars passing, bodies moving down sidewalks, crowds near the metro. And a magical feeling of previously unknown knowledge flooded me. Of course! Earth is populated by millions of worlds—we each live in parallel universes that sometimes intersect. Every person owns their own world, in which they’re free to choose both the rules and their role.
Suddenly I could see it so clearly: the roles we choose in our worlds, and how we color our own realities. Gray, bright, pastel, dark, glittery—so many tones and textures rushed into me in that unforgettable moment of seeing other dimensions. I saw how our worlds, like floating balloons, dance in space—sometimes merging into one, sometimes bursting, sometimes drifting on, glowing with color.
I saw how the owners of one world might visit others, or conquer them—like marrying a prince from a “wealthy” world without realizing your own kingdom’s riches. And I saw how some worlds forget who their master is. They turn from “Wizard’s World” into “Money,” “Power,” “Sex,” “Children.” Their owners forget they are still the main characters. The Kings. The Queens. The Sorcerers.
My world is alive. It is perfect. All penetrations of parallel realities happen with my permission. Everything around me is a product of my desire to see it. My desires in this world—are LAW. Its beauty depends entirely on the beauty I can create. I am an Artist. I am always learning the incomparable art of making my world a divine masterpiece—my masterpiece. I am constantly learning the art of LIFE in my miraculous world.
In the realm of my world, I reign supreme,
A sovereign queen, in my own dream.
Like a caravel sailing through my Rome,
Exploring the vastness of my own home.
I am Claudia, in my cardinal’s embrace,
Capturing moments, in every place.
A master of crafts, I mold and shape,
With tender caresses, my body’s landscape.
Laughter echoes, with no rhyme or cause,
A rock for my man, in life’s wild applause.
In the morning fog, I find my way,
Guided by dreams, in the light of day.
Through the smoke of doubts, I rise above,
In the depths of night, I am love.
My eyes, like shadows, hold mysteries deep,
In the sweetness of sleep, my soul does keep.
I am the sun that warms the earth,
The spring that brings forth rebirth.
In the tapestry of life, I am the weaver,
For in my world, I am the believer.
