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



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

head header

January 31.

Severe bombardment all the day long.

They say the Azeri president declared 'ghazavat'—the holy war—on this self-proclaimed Republic.

Sahtik with the kids and my mother-in-law stayed in Underground all the day.

In the morning I went to the barber's to have my hair cut.

Till 11 a.m. I sat in the Club and then was strongly recommended to leave.

At a news-stand in the Kirov Street I bought nine ball-pens of the cheapest sort — one monet each.

At home I was called over to Underground to dismantle Ahshaut's cot and take it out of there to make more room for the room's population.

From now on he is to sleep in one bed with Sahtik there.

Then I took breads to Carina's and Orliana's, respectively.

When back home again I tinkered at one more contrivance in the way of a handcart.

No Yoga (I'm still unwell).
No Joyce.

The home made oillamp needs improving – the wick tractor would pack up at times.

One more visit to Underground and the water-walk are ahead.

The shelling goes on, unceasingly and unilaterally.

No answer from this side except for my
"Good night".

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