автограф
     пускай с моею мордою
   печатных книжек нет,
  вот эта подпись гордая
есть мой автопортрет

Stepanakert
                   Saga

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рукописи не горят!.. ...в интернете ...   

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    days:

March 9.

The night turned out to be a really good one with its initial part unanimously dedicated to the anti-war action.

She is a superb first rater of this land, to pet her cuddliness even post-coitally is highly pleasurable and gratifying undertaking.

As for the dreams, they unfurled in a

... spacey gymnasium with polished floor neared in a smooth close-up bringing in view a row of hard chairs for the twenty accused among whom was also I and grown-up Chief and everybody knew there was just one punishment for found guilty – decapitation... the case was tried and only two of us were acquitted – Chief and some unknown youth ...

Perhaps, the grave dream was a reflection of Solzhenitsyn's ARCHIPELAGO in my dormant mind.

A lot of the staff members gathered at the Club. First, the coupon distribution is not over yet and, on the other hand, they hoped to get their salaries for three concluding months in last year.

Rita came from a village, ten miles away from the town, where she lives by some remote relative of her relatives of her relatives.

Arcadic, Veelen and some others bobbed in and out of the Renderers'.

I lunched alone, Sahtik and Ahshaut on a visit to Carina, from where Ahshaut returned with three toys and two pairs of hand-me-down slippers too small already for his cousin Tiggo.

It was a day of flakes downing from the morning till night just to melt in the meantime.

One page from Joyce.
Guitar.

At supper Sahtik announced her intention to sleep in Underground tonight – because there she and Ahshaut share one bed and she has no problems with reaching for the kid when he wakes up.

I commended the current war for Hellenizing us: we live like in ancient Sparta where husbands and wives dwelt in separate barracks. So the war brings us to deeper comprehension of what is good and really convenient—a cellar is the most blissful place on Earth.

Yet no sarcasm prevailed on her to change her mind—I had to see them to Underground.

It's ten past nine p.m.

Today's water-walk is feasible only with pails; however, one go would be enough – we're not short of water thanks to constant snowmelting and intense meltwater-trickling from all the housetops.

Good night.

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