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 25.

No electricity. One article rendered.

While at it, I had a theosophical talk with Wagrum and Lenic.

<!--The Master I've lately subscribed to should be pleased with me duly following His instructions—discuss such things whenever and whoever with it's possible.-->

It sounded more like a sermon though than a trilateral talk.
All they did was just listening to my palaver and making no comment because such subjects had been completely absent from the ideas-inoculation-kit used throughout our mutually vast SOVIET HOMELAND.

In the end something started to dawn upon them and Lenic asked cautiously if I was a God believer.

'No fear,' said I, 'my believing faculty is gone for good like the chopped off appendix.'

At home Valyo was awaiting for me to start drinking the X-mass in.

Then, he left taking home his family's share of bread baked by our mutual mother-in-law.

Soon after Valyo's departure, Slavic, a Muscovite compo, knocked on the door and the alcoholiday flowed on under the yarn of his front-line stories.

(A jobless ex-sportsman without what you call 'immaculate records' he joined a phedayee PHEDAYEE —
     (Armenian borrowing from Greek) "freedom fighter".
group as a sharpshooter).

After a while my mother-in-law and Roozahna left for Underground giving place for Sahtik and me to have it.

We were still at the table when a dense missile round hit the town. The moment the last bangs' echo died away, Ahshaut woke up crying.

<!-- I have a strong suspicion that Sahtik did the trick to shun an unremitting sex with the drunken pig of me.-->

Under the circumstances I only had to take crying Ahshaut and taciturn Sahtik over to Underground.

Then, I returned and saw Slavic off.
He was quite tight.

At a quarter-past-ten p.m., the electricity came on.
I'm alone.

Good night.

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