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 15.

A good deal of the night I spent bringing water for another of Sahtik's unfathomable washings.

In the morning - at one more general meeting of the personnel - Maxim, Chief Editor, legitimized two-hour working day.

Though we are deprived of possibility to do our work normally, emphasized he, we'd better keep in touch by getting together on daily basis just to swap news, thoughts, ideas and other treasures of comradely communication.

It sounded like an inaugurating speech at opening a kind of free chat grounds.

The mother-in-law went to Carina to lend a helping hand in meat rescuing operation and took Ruth with her.

The linen was boiling; Chief sleeping.

To let such a chance fly by would be a sin. We properly proved our sinlessness.

Then Sat went back to the washing, I worked out one page from ULYSSES.

Ruth returned home too wound up and utterly unruly. Sahtik had to yell at her.
No pencil game.

Yoga.
Supper.
Water.

In the queue to a water-spring I met a pair of neighbors to our Site. They told me that even the ice had been already scooped out of the big water container on the Site.

Whatever is is right.

It's half past nine p.m. Chief's sleeping home.

The rest of the family went over to Underground.

No shooting in Krkjan. That's good.

And good let this night be for all and everybody.

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