I am an orphan. My mother died when I was nine, my father when I was twelve. My whole childhood was offended to tears when my friends told me they were going to parks with my parents, spending time together, and I was sitting at home in the meantime under the care of an indifferent grandmother who said I wasn’t at home and she just needed help. I am 23 and got married. After the wedding they went to the husband's parents, and from the threshold she heard the joyful cry of the mother-in-law: "Misha, the daughter has come!" And hugged strongly. I cried, I was home.

It seems that freedom of speech in Russian is an opportunity to discuss, criticize and ironicly blaspheme the presidential elections in neighbouring states on a daily basis.

© Dmitry Sviridov

“My friends, I want to ask you this question. There is a family with minors living on the same street. There is no gas or light in the house. The children walk hungry, cold, and watch their parents not work and drink awkwardly. Where to seek help? The guardianship agency? Children are very sorry... Anonymous.”

I read this post and remembered my childhood. We also had such a family on the street, the mother was alcoholic, the father was lost somewhere, and the boy - Olegka, suffered because of this. On a physical and moral level. He was three years younger than I was, intelligent, energetic, played great chess, often with me winning, which brought me into a marked nervous state. He was raised by the entire neighborhood, each of the neighbors considered his duty to invite him home, to feed him, to sew if something broke, and sometimes to buy something new. And if his mother had a company for the evening, then someone must have gone and taken Olegka to sleep with him. No one has ever even thought about determining him somewhere in childhood, although I cannot say this 100%, I was still a boy.
In 1981, a storm washed away part of our village, many people died. A three-metre water shaft, intertwined with trees and stones, struck the village at night, when everyone was asleep, and our side of the street was severely affected. Of the fifteen houses on the spot, only two remained, the rest simply broke, broke and washed. Oleg died that year. I was not a witness to the element, was in the departure, but when I returned from the conversations, I realized that Oleg was trying to save his neighbors to the last, and as the survivors told him in several cases it succeeded, until he himself crushed the barrel. He was fifteen at the time and I think he considered everyone his family. What his fate would be in the childhood home, I do not want to guess.

What is the point of developing the Russian economy when it is possible to introduce criminal punishment for denying its greatness?

Here's what happens when your girlfriend leaves for a week: I found a delightful huge glass I've never seen; and I drank from it all week. When Carrie came home, I asked why we never used it; she replied, “It’s a flower vase.”