When I was a kid, my parents and I lived in the far north.

My dad went to the tundra for a few months, my mom worked day by day. They survived as soon as they could. And here I was a beautiful five-year-old princess all the days sitting alone at home, doing only what I wanted, and I wanted to wreck my mom's closet and torture the cat. For the first time in a month, he washed, ate normally and decided to sleep like a white man in bed. My mother left for another day. I did the usual thing, dropped out her cosmetics, and in the 90s it was pretty bright and original cosmetics) painted as much as I could, and I could draw the mouth of a clown and fall black eyes blue, dressed Daddy's parade shirt with medals he skilled in Afghanistan passed, Mommy's fat, who didn't want to hold, had to fix it on the head with a frog mask. And all that princess from the horror movie went to wake her dad. With a wild whisper, I hit my dad with the words, “Look how beautiful I am.”

On this day, I learned what Russian language is diverse and powerful. Dad smoked again.