My friend, pediatrician Vadim Ivanovich, was dispatched from meduniversity to a deaf corner of Belarus, but in principle by phone he that he was rarely lucky. It was not just a corner of an ancient old lady, but an entire house left of a grandfather who died in the late nineties. Vadim armed with a wreath, a cage with water, melted the remnants of the previous life from the house. The first week I was afraid, slept with the light. The ghost of the former owner did not want to leave, knocked on the bars, scratched the floor, scratched on the roof. Then he got used to and stopped scaring the young stranger.

I was lucky with the workplace too. From the chief ancient, as the CPSU chief physician. Dear grandfather, the main problems of which: garden, fishing and goats, which he raised in an incredible number. Of the partners – a few nice nurses sent to the district by distribution. From the parents of patients - forever respect and respect. In the hospital - hot water from the crane, you can always wash. Not well arranged. Of the negative points, the same patients. Would Vadim Ivanovich be a red girl - would cry in the pillow at night. He just called me and quarreled. After the end of the work, he left there, although his CPSU counterpart insisted on offering him his place, and the nurses a hand, a heart and everything attached to them. The stories of patients remain.

One day, Vadim comes for a challenge. It is said that a five-year-old child has a high fever, cough, cold. The address is an ordinary village house. Because of the fence breaks up a wooden yard. To knock and scream, and most importantly, to the wild laughter of the guard from the house nobody comes out. Vadim spit, opened the cane, gave a pinch to the guard to keep his legs intact. and entered.
In the big room of the cottage – smoke of cottage. There are several bodies at different stages of intoxication. On the table - half empty bottles, snack in canned pots, cucumbers, right on the sticky cloth. Bite and whole. Someone is singing, someone is fighting.
Where are the masters? The doctor is screaming, trying to scream the ball in the house of Rostov.
and chao? A few votes are recalled.
Lord, I say where is it?! to
You hear, brother, where is the man?
Somewhere here. The mask!
Because of the curtain, fencing the kitchen from the dining room, a swollen and dissatisfied female face rises.
Who needs what?
The doctor called?
A-A was called The little boy got sick.
Where is the child?
“There,” Mother uncertainly shakes her hand. Then she shakes, apparently someone is pulling her back behind the curtain.
Vadim goes in that direction. There is a door behind the oven. Behind the door is a small room where a boy is lying on the bed.
Are you sick? Asked by Vadim.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah The water came out of the well yesterday, worsening. The water is cold. Mommy said don’t drink, and I drank. The fault itself.
Can you get up?
and AGA.
Wade examines the patient. Listen to the breathing of small lungs.
Will you go to the hospital?
and AGA.
I need papers and my parents.
- Our parents, - the patient responds solidly. We will do it ourselves.
I began to dress slowly.
Vadim looked at the patient’s independence and carefully asked. Just to support the conversation:
What do parents do at all?
The boy looked at the doctor surprised:
What do you see, uncle? Water is drunk.
Wade breathed up. Are you also in the sky?
A small patient shakes his head.
Do you not drink at all?
No, I do not drink. and thirsty.
Fifteen years have passed. And for Vadim Ivanovich, this is a standard scam at any party.
I do not drink. and thirsty.
__________

There lived a valley in that village. Valka is a CGB, a often and long-sick child. The fate of the valley is also not sugar. A man was killed by a drunken man, he was arrested. Mother walked, walked, and walked somewhere far away, into the city. She lives with a loving grandmother. Precisely the grandmother. But still a strong old lady, she does the cow herself, excavates the garden herself. The valley will not offend anyone. Last summer Valk was irritated by some boys, so the grandmother armed with a scarf from the scarf and gave the boys..... (Well, this is not a literary word). The boys brought their parents to the gathering. The grandmother took the slice thick and repeated the procedure.

Since then, no one has touched the valley. Here is only the CHD - eternally fluid nose, in winter and autumn temperature. We take them, as on duty, once every two weeks, or even more often. Under this bench and the old lady with her sick. “In the chest” and “to breathe.” And she will crush the pigs of the beetle leaves, catch up a hill with this mesiv and drag through the courtyard. Vadim somehow secretly tried to raise an empty corner. And I understood that the stories about the grandmother’s scratch from the scratch, is not an empty talk.
So what are you doing, Doctor? Grandma meets Vadim with a standard phrase and sits at the table with force.
Instantly fries eggs with shrimp, rolls potatoes on a plate in uniforms.
Don’t worry – no shame.
We don’t have to talk to Vadim for long. On my feet in the morning. The roll looks like a stove, it has a nest there. A bunch of flowery clothes, disabled dolls. You shut your eyes, right, the Czechoslovak doctor in a deaf village. Only from the ceiling the wire hangs with a lamp. The dolls are plastic.

After the treatment, the grandmother did not let the doctor go. Vadim will come out of the house, and in his pocket, then a cookie, then a sausage. And it is uncomfortable to refuse, and you understand that the old lady spent precious pennies from her small pension on a “gift.”
One day, I put my hand in my pocket, and there was something wet. I was scared, I pulled out my hand, all my fingers in some spots. Well I think miracles.
Vadim pulled out his pocket, and there was a shell. And I understood what happened. The old woman’s retirement is only three days away. Apparently, it was full of money. So she found what was in the house. Fresh chicken eggs. I put it in the doctor’s pocket.
“And you won’t believe it,” said a tough doctor with gray whiskers. I was under thirty already. And I buried patients, and worked in child oncology. Nothing took me. And then I walk down the street and crawl over this white egg. Then I bought Valke all sorts of chocolate dolls, pulled them as a gift.
And what?
Do you know how painful it is when you scratch your ass?

The nationality of the criminals must be indicated.

Let the headlines be "Russian outsiders from Saratov blocked the prospectus, dancing the chord", "Jews made a debut in a chess club with shooting from injuries", "Evenki organized a race on deer on the Garden Ring"

Some bring earrings, others are not easy.

The son of a friend was hysterical about the unbought new phone, issued the crown phrase: "I did not ask me to give birth!" Silence is a sign of consent. Shut up then? Don’t get out now.” The boy hanged for 15 minutes.

The State Duma has introduced a bill banning the media from mentioning the nationality of criminals. So now you will never guess who exactly shot in the air at the wedding.

We all have a friend who has sex everywhere. I want to point out that the wives of such frogs are far from outwardly ahti. I suggest not to discuss their wives and their husbands. Such a type was our Yura in our brigade, he lay in the hospital and scared the nurse, then did repairs in someone in the apartment and scared the hostess, etc. Here he went to a shop next to his home, in the end, drunk at 0 called Vova and Vova took him home. There he dropped Yura near his apartment (wife did not let, I don't remember) and Vova himself went home. A few days later, our Yuri began to tell how terrified the director of this store. Here I have to pause and give the word to the master of our brigade.

Master - [With a thoughtful face] Is the director in the same store a man?! to

Since then, Yuri has not told this story, and we have rotted every time Vova is in a pair with the master eë repeated)

I was 6-7 years old. I came to my mother to work after school, she gave me money and ordered me to buy two bushes of bread of today’s warm (we had our own bakery in the city) and five or six of yesterday’s and yesterday’s (we kept pigs and sheep), and for the delivery of flashbacks, how much will come out. He gave me two large bags. The shop was 10 meters across the road. So I came to the store, the seller told me that the bread is only today and that three bowls. I told him to buy a fireplace. In the end, I got a whole bag of fireworks. I don’t remember that my mom mocked me, rather they and dad roared for a long time. I was already in class in 9-11th, and daddy, burning the stove, said, "Daaaaaaaaah, you will not meet such light bulbs now, thank you, daughter, the stove is burning from one stove." I am 38 and at every family feast they remember this story.

It is not an aggressive minority that leads to war, but a silent majority.

knock at the door. I open. The smell of many days. A neighbor on the doorstep:
Do you have a device to measure pressure? I don’t know if something is wrong with me...

The crime was committed by a group of persons of a nationality prohibited for publication in the Russian Federation.

I met a man a little older than me. He looked at me when his dog was walking out. I was thirty-nine years old, but the acquaintance with Botox, the gym and beautiful dresses sometimes caused men to want to meet. We walked with him on our shore. They talked a lot, the man told stories about his life and even read poems. I listened to everything he told me, and on the third date I asked him, “Did you sit in jail?” What happened to him: he stumbled, his face crushed, he was terribly upset. He asked me, “Well, how did you guess? I watch the speech, and I have no words in prison.” He said that in his youth he sat for four years, for theft at the dachas. And all, the man is missing. Then he called me, he was drunk. I did not call him, of course.

It was not difficult to guess. We met and he told me what he was doing in the day, for example, "Today I was on the beach, I look at two mints there." “I went to the store today and met mints at the entrance.” And so three, four times. It seemed strange to me, for example, I don’t notice the police at all, I never see them anywhere. People see them around. I thought he was sitting. He sees policemen around him, sees enemies in them. However, a forty-year-old woman already notices too much unlike a young girl.

For some reason, almost all modern advertising characters want to be sent to a comprehensive medical examination, starting with a psychiatrist.

Case of Prokofiev

Sergei Prokofiev died on the same day as Stalin on March 5, 1953. The death of the “leader of the peoples” overshadowed the departure of the musician. Everyone who wanted to say goodbye to him went to the House of Composers, where a civil panic took place, with room flowers in pots: there were simply no others - everyone "raised" Stalin. Next to the tomb stood the sad and humble Mira Mendelssohn, a widow.

At the same time, another widow of Prokofiev - the son-in-law of Lina Lubera - used to push a barrel of wipes in a women's camp in the village of Abez. And knowing nothing about the death of the man she loved most in the world.
For a long time this name - Caroline Codine-Luber - was not in any biography of Prokofiev. It would not be appropriate for one of the most famous Soviet composers, the six-time winner of the Stalin Prize, to have a foreign wife. Meanwhile, it was with this fragile Spanish woman, in which there was a lot of "enemy" blood - Polish, French and Catalan - Sergei Prokofiev lived a long 20 happy years. But she was ruthlessly erased first from the composer's life, and then even from the memories of him. They left a place only for the "model" of Mira Mendelssohn: graduates of the literary institute, the Komsomol, the daughter of the "old Bolshevik" Abram Mendelssohn and - according to rumors - the niece of Lazar Kaganovich.

Caroline grew up in a musical family: her father, Juan Codina, was a Spanish singer, and her mother, Olga Nemysskaja, was a Polish singer. And so they followed the musical events of New York, where they moved from Spain. And in 1918, the nail of the music program "Big Apple" was just Prokofiev. He performed in the famous Carnegie Hall. The manner of his performance, his own authorship things excited Olga Nemysskaja, and she literally forced her daughter - a beginner singer - to get to know Prokofiev after the concert.

Lina didn’t want to go behind the scenes too much: yes, she liked his music, but the long-held 27-year-old Russian wasn’t too interested in her. Line was barely 21 years old, but she knew the price: like two drops of water like the star of silent cinema Theresa Brooks, men passing by looked after her for a long time. He spoke five languages and sang very well.
It is clear why she did not want to appear to Prokofiev as one of the enthusiastic fans. But she had to surrender under maternal pressure. Lina wanted to stay unnoticed in the crowd of other ladies, frozen on the threshold. However, Prokofiev immediately identified the black-haired girl and invited her to enter. From that it all started. As he later wrote in his diary, Lina “has struck me with the vividity and glow of her black eyes and some young trembling. In a word, it was the type of Mediterranean beauty that has always attracted me.”
They hadn’t spent a day without each other. Specifically for his Bird - as Prokofiev called Lina - he wrote a cycle of five songs. Then there were other works. And they performed together - the Russian pianist and composer Prokofiev and the Spanish messo-soprano Lubera (as a creative nickname she took the name of the grandmother on the motherline).

During the tour, Caroline learned Russian while playing. And also between tours they managed to get married - on September 20, 1923 in the Bavarian town of Etal. In February 1924, a small Svyatoslav appeared in their family. Four years later, his second son, Oleg. The fragile bird was still accompanied by the eyes of men. Over the years, she has only worn, acquired a loose. For an example of elegance she was held in the musical circles of Paris and London, New York and Milan. Balmont dedicated her poetry, Picasso, Dagilyev and Matisse highly appreciated her style, Stravinsky and Rahmaninov, despite the musical rivalry with Prokofiev, paid tribute to her voice and, most importantly, - the talent to combine three positions together: singer, secular lady and composer wife. As the last, she not only cared about Prokofiev's everyday life, but also engaged in the organization of tours and associated frequent moves, negotiated, translated: She managed everything playing, elegant and beautiful. According to the memories of Prokofiev’s sons, “Mama’s word was decisive.”

When the composer came up with the idea of returning to the USSR after a long 18-year tour, it was the bird that put a point in all these doubts and throws. In his homeland, Prokofiev was promised to write music. In the West, he, like Rahmaninov and Stravinsky, was forced to postpone writing for the sake of performing activity: only in this way he could earn. Lina, who adored her husband, perfectly understood: creativity for him - in the first place. So we have to move.

In 1936, the Prokofiev family returned to the USSR. The children went to an Anglo-American school. Lina blinked at receptions in numerous embassies – she was always in the center of attention. Prokofiev was really allowed to create. True, not long: very soon he was explained what the task of the Soviet composer was. And almost parallel to “Romeo and Juliet” he writes “Lenin’s Cantata”, composes an opera about the Ukrainian colloquium – “Semen Kotko”. And he sees how the circle of his friends rotates – he is arrested, this is missing, this is shot, declared a spy, etc. and so on. But she doesn’t even think about changing: why should she stop communicating with her foreign friends, visiting embassies, writing to mothers to France? What stupidity is this?

In 1938, Prokofiev went to Kislovodsk to rest. And almost in the first letter he read: "Here behind me is a charming Jewish woman, but you do not think of anything bad." And in vain. Prokofiev did not resist the persecution of Mira Mendelssohn. Their holiday romance has grown into a permanent novel. In 1941, the composer left his family. Per if the bird damaged at least one tear, he would have stopped: but that “holds the mark.” She did not like to complain. I could not tolerate the nuts. Looking at Lina, no one could even think of what demons are breaking her soul. Because with the departure of Prokofiev she did not accept for a second, and did not stop loving him for a second.

She loved the composer and Mira is the right girl from the right family. For a long time, Lina was convinced that their break-up was only temporary. She did not accommodate scandals, did not burden with requests. But in a few years
Prokofiev talked about divorce. She stood up on the ass. What was there more, love, wounded pride, or mere fear for the fate of one’s own and children? She entered the USSR as the wife of a Soviet composer. Who will she be after her divorce? A foreign spy? Enemy of the people? Eventually, smart people explained to Prokofiev: marriage with a Spanish woman, registered in Bavaria, in the USSR - invalid. He can marry peacefully. What the composer did on January 15, 1948. A month after the wedding, Cody was arrested as a foreign woman.
He was spy and sentenced to 20 years in camps.

There, she learned about her husband's death - by chance: one of the same prisoners heard on the radio that it sounds like a concert dedicated to the memory of Prokofiev. said to Lina. And then this proud woman cried so much that the guards were forced to release her from work to the bar. She bitterly mourned the man who left her alone with her sons in the most difficult moment, who dropped her on the arbitrary fate, and for whose fault she was in the camps. From Kolyma Lina returned three years after the deaths of Stalin and Prokofiev. And, according to the memories of the contemporaries, two days later, it was again a model of elegance. She declared her rights to the composer’s legacy, and it was here that a spicy circumstance emerged, which in legal practice was called “Prokofiev’s case”: the genius left behind two widows at once. Now that Stalin was gone, the marriage of Prokofiev with Lina again became legal. Lene and her sons had almost all their possessions.

Lena wanted to go to the West. She turned unsuccessfully to Brezhnev, asking her to see her elderly mother. In 1971, her younger son Oleg got permission to go to London for the funeral of his wife-English, who died in Russia from infection with viral hepatitis, and see his daughter from this marriage. Oleg lived and worked in Britain. In 1974, one of Lina’s letters, addressed to the then Chairman of the KGB Yuri Andropov, asking her to leave for a month in Britain to see her son and granddaughter, was answered: three months later she was called from OVIR and that she was granted a three-month visa for a trip to Britain. At that time she was 77 years old. She did not return. But Lina could not be considered a refugee. The Soviet authorities did not want the political scandal that would arise if the widow of the great Prokofiev had sought political asylum in the West. The Soviet embassy in London extended her visa without any problems. In the West, Lina Prokofiev shared her time between London and Paris, where her eldest son and family later moved. She spent a lot of time in the United States and Germany. In London, in 1983, she founded the Sergey Prokofiev Foundation, to which she transferred her extensive archive, including correspondence with her husband. She was invited to prokofiev anniversaries, festivals, concerts. Lina Prokofiev celebrated her last, 91st birthday on October 21, 1988, at the hospital in Bonn, where her sons arrived. She was deadly sick, but lost her champagne. She was transferred to the Winston Churchill Clinic in London, where she died on January 3, 1989.

Records of Lina Lubera's soprano are not preserved. Caroline Codin-Luber lived a long life. At the age of 77, she started her life again. He travelled a lot and raised his grandchildren. But the main thing - she was engaged in the re-release of Prokofiev's musical heritage, did everything so that the name of her great husband was not forgotten in the West. He is truly known, remembered and loved.

– Grandfather, why were the prostitute in the army cancelled?
- Grandson, for a modern recruiter - it is too complicated gadget...

xxx: I went home from work, a friend called, a few minutes of my monologue and attempts to engage the conversation were not crowned. He said he was tired for today, and if she doesn’t want to maintain the dialogue, then I’ll probably turn off.

She hasn’t spoken to me for a week.



YYY: With such shit, the main thing is to be the first. Tip: Lena, did you call me to keep silent on the phone? I worked all day and very tired, and now you call me and I try my best to be positive for You, but apparently you don't need it..." Let her sit down and think what a hate she is.

And yes, you thought right. I have not had sex for a long time.

Once you wake up, you will realize that life has passed.

apples

- Son, buy apples, your own, home, not drip.
It was this “not drippered” and made Alexander stop and turn around. This is what his grandmother always said in a distant childhood: not to spray, but to splash.
“Not spotted,” he said, he approached the bench.
The old lady with a bunch of apples resurrected and said quickly:
- Not drippled, not drippled, from his tree in the garden, this year a apple has been born, like never before. You do not see that they are not as large as the merchandise, but the imports, God knows where, there eat more than apples. And this is ours, the locals, her hands quickly picked up the apples, showing the buyer the goods from all sides. They smell like apples, and they are delicious, you try, try. Here, look, look, - with some enthusiasm continued the grandmother, stretching the apple, on which there was a small brown mark - you see, even the worm eats them, because they are not drip.
Alexander laughed after these words:
Are they all worms?
“No,” the old lady shrugged her hand with an apple, “look, all the whole, this one got, I didn’t take care. Well, the worm also eats, so it is harmless for a person, I say, not drip.
Alexander these apples were not needed for nothing, he simply, passing through the evening market, cut a corner on the way home. But something in the form of this grandmother, in her way of speaking, in her open and blameless gaze, in her way of convincing the worm of the truthfulness of her words resembled his native grandmother. Some, long forgotten, feeling of a warm wave spilled in her chest, and Sasha wanted to do something good for this old lady who was trading at the marketplace. Therefore, without negotiating, he bought two kilograms of these apples, not knowing why, telling him that his son fell ill at home (he is generally poor in health), coughed and his wife was in a position, and that, probably, it would be useful for them not to eat drip apples. In general, not understanding why, Alexander shared with this stranger the most secret that tormented his soul.
The grandmother wept, breathed, nodded her head, saying that now the old are healthier than the young, because, is there food in the cities now? This is a solid chemistry, and the air itself here is heavy and sick. He cried and agreed. When he was about to leave, the grandmother suddenly grabbed him for the hand:
- Listen, come here tomorrow, I will bring you a slice of dried raspberries with sweetened sugar, the first thing from the cold. So I bring you, you come tomorrow.
Alexander went home with the apples and smiled, it was fine in the soul, as in childhood, when the grandmother smooked her head with her shrimped hand and said, "Nothing, Sashok, everything will be fine."
*** by
He did not know his parents of Sasuke. The grandmother said that she didn’t know his father, and the mother... the mother was untrained. As she brought it one day from the city, in a blanket wrapped, so she went back. She promised to take her life as she would, and so she died.
I loved Grandma Sasuke. When she sometimes breathed hard in the winter evenings, recalling her missing daughter, pressing her grandson’s head to the chest, kissing him, he said:
Do not cry, ba. When I grow up, I will never leave you, I will always live with you. Do you believe me?
“I believe, Sasuke, I believe,” Grandma smiled through tears.
When Sasha was twelve years old, her grandmother was gone. So he found himself in the school-internat. Grandma's house was sold by some relatives (that is, when they lived together with grandmother, Sasha thought that they were alone in the white world, and when it came to the inheritance, there were a lot of applicants).
Who lived in a nursery, it is not necessary to tell all the "charms" of staying in such institutions, and who did not live, he will not understand until the end. But Sascha did not break and did not follow the curved path. He served in the army and acquired a profession. He was not lucky with the girls. And although Sasha himself was a tall, athletic, cute guy, all his friends, learning that he was an orphan, quickly disappeared from his horizon. Therefore, when five years ago he accidentally encountered in a supermarket with Svetka (they were raised in the same kindergarten), he was delighted as the most familiar and close person. The light was very pleased to meet. Six months later they got married, a son was born, and now they are expecting a daughter. In other words, life is fine.
*** by
- Light, I bought an apple here for you and Deniska at the marketplace, home, not drip, - I stretched the package to my wife.
The light that grew up from birth in the children's home missed all these epithetes by the ears. She washed the apples, put them in a large plate and put them on the table. Half an hour later, an apple smell came out.
“Listen, what cool apples, and how they smell,” said Light, wrapping them on both cheeks with her son.
So home, not dotted.
That night Alexandra dreamed of a grandmother. She grabbed him on the head, smiled and said something. Sasha couldn’t find out the words, but it wasn’t important, he knew that the grandmother was saying something good, kind, affectionate. From which flowed peace and happiness, forgotten happiness of childhood.
The sound of the alarm interrupted the sleep.
All day at work, Alexander was not on his own. Something bothered, some incomprehensible grief bit the soul, periodically climbed to the throat. Returning home, he caught himself in the thought that he really wanted to see that grandmother with the apples on the market again.
*** by
Evdokia Stepanovna (so called the grandmother who traded apples) walked around the courtyard, breathing hard, wiping away the tears that ran into her eyes. Long ago, her eldest son died in the performance of official duties (he was a firefighter), not even had time to get married, and the youngest daughter, a beautiful and clever woman, when she studied at the institute in the capital, married an African and went into a hot climate, where bananas and pineapples grow. Her deceased husband long busted and cared about it. And she what? She just cried, feeling that she would never see her girl again. So it went. As long as her husband was still alive, she was alive. What to do when life is like that? And as two years ago the husband disappeared, the light in the soul of Evdokia Stepanovna died. She lived more by habit, asking God to take her quickly into the kingdom of peace.
This young man who bought apples yesterday wasted her soul. After all, a stranger at all, and how well he spoke to her, did not go away... Something was in his eyes... some hidden grief, pain, she immediately felt it. Her maternal instinct broke through in the words: "Come here tomorrow, I will bring you a slice of dried raspberries with sweetened sugar, from the cold the first thing. So I’ll bring you, you come tomorrow.”
And right now, wrapping in the newspaper a bowl with raspberries, Evdokia Stepanovna unwillingly smiled, thinking what would be like to seize for this guy and his family. She really wanted to delight a person and, of course, talk a little more like yesterday.
*** by
Yesterday's place behind the shelf was occupied, and Evdokia Stepanovna settled nearby, in the neighboring row. Having laid out a bunch of apples, she focused all her attention on the passing people, so as not to miss it.
People returned massively from work. By this time, Evdokia Stepanovna was finally upset. "Here is the old fool, directed herself, invented... and who to listen to and believe a strange grandmother," she thought annoyingly, and the eyes looked at everything and looked at a familiar silhouette in the crowd.
Alexander yesterday did not give special importance to the words of the grandmother about the lip and raspberries. “These baccarat grandmothers will say what you want, only to sell their goods,” he thought. “Will he really come? It doesn’t look like an experienced, fighting trade. The worm showed... just invented...” he smiled, remembering the face of the grandmother, with what warmth she spoke about the worm. “Oh, what a difference, anyway, I go through the bazar, I look, suddenly it stands.”
Sasha turned to the part of the bazar where the grandmother with apples stood yesterday, went along the shelf, the grandmother is not visible. "Thu, fool, was divorced like a little boy, good that yesterday, with a fool, Svetka did not boast of the promised strawberry." The mood instantly deteriorated, without looking at the sides of Sasha accelerated the step.
“Milok, I’m here, here, standing,” a loud cry came out, and Alexander saw yesterday’s grandmother rushing to him.
She joyfully grabbed him for the elbow, pulled after him and tweeted:
- The place was occupied, I stood next to it, afraid, missed, thought, would you come? I brought it all, and suddenly I didn’t believe my grandmother.
The grandmother was all "tarahtel" and "tarahtel", but Alexander did not listen to the words, he for a moment moved his soul into childhood. This manner of conversation, individual words, expressions, hand movements, a look in which the desire to please a person with his actions was hidden, all this reminded him so much of his native grandmother.
He asked, how much she ought, Evdokia Stepanovna shrugged her hands, saying that it was she who had cooked for herself from her bushes, and it was necessary to take it as a meal. And she also said that her raspberries are not sorted, but also the old one, not so large and beautiful in appearance, but real, odorable and very useful. And Sascha remembered his grandmother's raspberries, her smell and taste, and also for some reason he remembered the potatoes. Yellow inside, it looked so appetizing in the plate, and delicious what. After his grandmother’s death, he never ate such potatoes again.
Do you have yellow potatoes inside? He broke the old lady.
- There is a yellow and white, and the one that is well cooked, and hard for soup.
- I like yellow, her grandmother in her childhood always cooked, - dreamingly said Alexander.
Tomorrow is Saturday, weekend. And you come to me in the village, you will see what potatoes I have, I have a lot more... I am old already, it is hard for me to drag my bags, and you are young, here and go somewhere nearby, just forty minutes on the electric car. Come, I will not hurt you.
And Sasuke went. Not for the potatoes, but for the warmth lost from childhood.
*** by
Two years passed.
Is the cake really fresh? Evdokia Stepanovna asked for the second time.
“Yes, I tell you, yesterday they brought you, well, what do you, god, like a little child? The seller answered.
My kids will come to me tomorrow with their grandchildren, so I ask. Give me one, I will try.
"Look, Stepanovna survived completely crazy," they joked in a row, "found some hungry people, let the house, last summer Svetka with the children all summer on her neck sat. I liked it, they go again.
Oh, and do not speak. Foreign people, swing to the thread, or even knock on the butt, the house is good. Vasily was the deceased owner. I told her how many times, she cried out.
Weighs me a kilo, a good cake.
Finally, my aunt was standing behind me. You are not eating them, Stepanovna.
Evdokia Stepanovna, not in a hurry, went home and smiled. What is her conversation? All kinds of gossip. Parents are not relatives, what a difference. Where are those relatives? For so many years I did not remember her. But here Sasha with the Light help, and not to help the matter.
“Sasha, what can we wait for tomorrow? I have put all the things together and packed the guests, we are just getting the last electric. They went, right? - Agitated Svetlana's husband who came from work.
“Daddy, we went to my grandmother, we went,” Deniska picked up, “there are chickens, cakes, chickens with cherry...there’s fine.
“Baba,” the two-year-old Lennochka jumped, “I want to go to my grandmother.
Alexander looked at his family, smiled, shrugged his hand:
They went.
They sat in the electric car, the children looked out the window, periodically announcing the car with enthusiastic screams: "Look, look!" It’s so great when you have a grandmother who is always waiting!

In the United States, they are considering the possibility of depicting in dollars a black fighter for the abolition of slavery.
Black people in ecstasy.
And the whites rub their hands, because it will be possible to officially and without problems exchange the Negro for a commodity!

Laiki is the highest achievement of democracy. With their help, even those who are unable to link two words can speak online, and even those who are unable to understand the thought can appreciate it.

The company created a subsidiary, gave a loan. People work and turn.

The tax comes:

Your financial performance is bad. In such a situation, no one except the related persons would give you a loan. So there is no business purpose and interest on the loan can not be included in tax expenses.



Well fuck them, the costs have been reduced, the fine paid - work on.

Worked well.

Next year comes the tax:

Your financial performance is very good. You do not need a loan at all.

So there is no business purpose and interest on the loan can not be included in tax expenses!