Earlyborn - стр. 11

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It was already midday. Dionysius got to the airport in San José and bought tickets on two planes: to Atlanta, and then to Paris. It cost him much money, yet he was a cheerful person, as all people in the South America (how could! We should try that!), and did not care about money. Furthermore, he considered money to be evil, and as soon as money fell into his hands, he spent it as soon as possible. That was more comfortable for him. So was now: he took some money from his bank—a massive wooden chest with handfuls of golden coins, which lay there for quite time, as a family inheritance, he decided that if he was going to do a good deed, money must be used. Dionysius had to be in the plane in a couple of hours.

Looking at a stream of red taxis, lined up in such a manner that it reminded car racers gathering there from the entire town, Dionysius contemplated the variety on one hand, and, on the other hand, the sameness of towns on the Earth, in which he was. Take these palm trees. Or the sky, an old white building, similar to the White House in Washington, and the slightly cracked from the sun dry light-gray asphalt—all this Dionysius could not digest with the thought of what, he wondered, he would see in the narrow snow-covered Paris streets. He, eventually (maybe because of the heat, maybe because of his hunger), concluded that similarities and discrepancies, life and death, love and hate, even the globe and everything beyond it—is one and the same thing, as though we compared the snow and the rain.