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:

December 20.

A nasty night it was, but I stubbornly slept it through. In dreams

...I tilled a kitchen garden on a too boggy mountain slope and then rode a bicycle along a wide path of sand getting finer and deeper and turning the trail into hopelessly impassable dusthole...

At the workplace I was engrossed with rendering of four articles and only had a short distraction for a small talk with Rita on her visit to the Renderers' to get warm by the block-stone heater.

After the final period I sat back and suggested Wagrum to write an article with practical instructions what to do when a missile attack catches you on the street.

However, he found the theme too shallow when compared to the life in shelters which he was going to describe in a masterpiece of an article one of these days.

Arcadic also dropped in. Running for an MP in the nearing parliamentary elections, he could speak only about his chances—too slim in his opinion because his rival's too mighty popular with all the criminals and gamblers in their constituency.

At our place Sahtik was receiving visitors today.
Before lunch, Yana, a friend of hers, turned up with most sad accounts of her maimed married life with a KGB officer.

<!-- Men are pigs, all of us, as W. S. Maugham vividly exposed in his masterpiece story, and a pig invested with the power is the horridest beast imaginable. -->

After the lunch break, Robic, an employee at the same school, brought Sahtik's salary for last September paid only now.

So, even among the pigs you can occasionally stumble on a knight.

After the working day was over, I went to the Printing House, three blocks southward.

Once a month as any other guy from the editorial staff I have to oversee the paper through the press.

Arcadic, whose turn it was today, explained me supervisor's duties and moves before you give go-ahead to print it.
After two hours of step-by-step instructing we parted with a handshake, the first one since we had met.

When I came home, it was too late for yoga.

I had a supper and then took a bath in the washing-tub.

It's half-past-ten p.m. Routine shooting outdoors.

Ahshaut's fast asleep.

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