Why should an old lady cry at the box office on May 8th when she lacks poor coins to pay for a little kefir? And the seller in the face to send her away? For the fact that she was struck in the mail without paying out her retirement even before the holidays? Because she hasn’t eaten for three days? For the fact that everyone cares about the lonely grandmother, who, in the war was a sanitary, saved your grandfather? I was not sorry to buy a man to eat. But the whole line stood, and no one rushed to help the old man, although there were both young people and those who should have known how to live in the post-war years. My wife got upset by looking at that grandmother. And even more - then, thinking about what kind of people are around.
So, behold, do not lie, lord, and pass by the veteran whose heart has grabbed. Beyond those who are pressed by the underdogs, by the guy who wants to break the urds in a fascist attribute that should not have been born, simply because he is with a Georgian tape.
Thank you to all: in the first place to those who lie in our land, in my land; thank you to those who are alive, who see the horror now, having experienced all the difficulties of the war then; thank you to those who do something, thank you very much; thank you who remember.
Victory is the only celebration that makes us one. The last. The same one that we are trying to take from inside and outside, let me not be from Russia.