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:

February 1.

Yesterday—so the local radio—eighty missiles and forty shells hit the town.

And today till half past one p.m. I was again busy modeling a handcart.

I tried to use the wheels from a toy truck but their axis made of wire couldn't bear the weight of 40-liter flask filled with water.

Rather calm a day it was – only one attack.

They say (in Underground mass media) Azeri tanks had captured Hramort village setting a lot of houses on fire. Yet, the attackers were fought back and fled sustaining heavy casualties.

Sashic dropped in when I was lunching alone to ask how we were getting on.

I paid to Nasic, the landlady, fifty-monet rent for this month.

One page from ULYSSES.
No Yoga.

A rare treat – all the family had supper together.

Then I went for the water-walk. On the way back home there occurred a minor break down.

<!-- Well, the first American space shuttle also lost fifteen thermo-scales in its maiden flight. -->

However, I managed to bring water home without so crushing a strain as it was yesterday. On the way I saw a great fire in the downhill town outskirts.

Washing the reachable parts of mine in the tub is the last item on the agenda today.

So I have the right to say
"good night".

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