The beginning of zero, I am 5-6 years old. I go to the bar and ask for fireworks.

Children’s fireworks are not toys. The seller responds.

Give me a lighter.

Here is hold. So much of you.

After removing the light bulb, I still thought for a long time, what is the fundamental difference between the light bulb and the light bulb? And why can I arrange, in her opinion, the end of the world with the help of the light bulbs, but not with the help of the light bulb? I still do not know the answer.

30,000 new churches built over the past 30 years and one semi-unconstructed cosmodrome. Yuri Gagarin would be surprised.

But we are still alive – those who have heard the stories of their grandmothers who survived the war.
Here is one of those stories.
We went to give bread. It was autumn and I came home late. I come home and I hear them crying. I heard the heart trouble. Neighbors and neighbors are crying, crying. Without words I understood: my dead. But I do not want to believe. I cannot! I am being informed of his death. She took him in her hands, her legs crashed, fell. When she recovered, the neighbor said, "Your at least had time to send a message before he died. And my unknowledge disappeared...” – “What news?” I ask. She gives me a letter "Together with the notification came! Now read it, do not read it, it will not be resurrected.” I began to read the letter... and joy! He is alive!
My grandmother kept this letter as holy. I read him. It says that the entire company, where my grandfather was, was killed in the attack. And he, wounded, lost consciousness, lay until night, and then, coming to himself, popped in the rear and stumbled upon our spies, who brought him to the sanatorium. There he met with the staff writer, who informed him that notifications about the death of the entire staff of the company had already been sent. “Don’t believe the news,” the grandfather wrote. I am alive, I am alive! This letter I write after the notification of my death was sent. I am alive! I’ll come back, I’ll definitely come back...”

Even if you do not know about the author of Perro, it is easy to guess that "Red Hat" is a foreign fairy tale. We usually go with cakes from grandmother, not to her.