Xxx: My father told me that he once painted Stalin in a school diary. He painted as hard as he could to the extent of his original artistic talents. Just in school his portraits were hanging everywhere, in every classroom and corridor. In general, this pattern on the father of the peoples first saw the mother and such great puzzles to the son inserted that the father did not like to paint the whole future life. And the diary that mother burned, then the new father swallowed and did not paint anymore.

This story was told to me by my father when I, as a student, asked him to help me paint.