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After The Siege Of Leningrad. My first memories .

После Блокады Ленинграда. Первые мои воспоминания .

I’m five years old. We were evacuated from Leningrad to the village of Bogorodskoye Hoshika under the Gorky region. Local – kowarenai.

Arrived from a long trip Aunt Zhenya. Laid the paper out and began to comb out my long curly dark hair. Mine is to ensure that any louse not to miss. Great when falls the female: she has a long big abdomen which is especially loud bursts between the nails …

Early spring. The legs at the knees and ankles are weak from the habit of the boots. Stunning color saturation of the sky and the green grass ant. Her brutally important chickens peck, and she was uneasy. Contrastingly dirty pink from the black earth sticking out everywhere horsetails. Pull the domes – blade snap is torn and exposing the tender wet sweet tip. Striking generosity of nature: even though a whole bunch of horsetail and tear – all of it fully. On the field I found the remaining sprouts and onions. This is a special fortune, but the onion with the root tear can not afford …

I obedient: to the pond one is not suitable …

Communist consciousness of the Soviet engineer Aunt, Eugene and noble, the actress – singer in Italian music education, my grandmother, Nina. s I have to babysit. And Mama-Lucy – without degree-level education and that is why she is given the workdays on the farm was the head of the club. Here looking for her Aunt-Genis : “And – where is she then?” …

Very funny farmers that goats (my inespecially) Grandmother for the winter made fur coat, I’m funny in the spring when I see his nurse skinny shaggy – without the fur…

Planting potatoes Mother-Lucy with Aunt-Zhenya turn into a dance. No wonder the village go take a peek. Broken rotten stair to the attic, Aunt-Jack hurt his leg and began to cry. Pity too, I roared, and for a long time I was not calm …

For a Christmas party at the club at the matinee I play a German song from grandma’s repertoire: “O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum of VZI, grunzen Dinah Blatter …”. It’s during the war! And now do not understand – was it boldness or nedoma. Moreover, those highly sensitive for Poland, I recite a Polish poem, as “a tasty mouse”, “neotrogena drotic trance”, “puff” – caught in a mousetrap. The farmers are very sorry for the mouse. And when I compassionate pronounced the sacramental phrase fable: “…and who in the mind will, on the empty stomach to sing” the hall crying. But the Authorities once again made a blunder, neither the Grandmother nor me that time did not repressure. You probably inexcusable negligence, all informers were taken to the front…

The existence of Men I didn’t know but suddenly comes to us a young disabled Uncle-Vlad and gives a piece of sugar. But you can’t fool me: the stones, I don’t eat …

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