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 12.

In the morning I shipped the baling wire to the Site and there caught a band of neighbors from the opposite side of the gorge with their pants down—stealing water from the Site's huge water container.

At first they seemed a bit abashed but then quite reasonably asked why I had popped up at so improper time.

Till three p.m. I was digging, breaking and shoveling the clay at the Site layout.

About five p.m. I got over to Orliana's to discuss with Valyo possibilities of getting reinforced concrete slabs to bridge the still ceilingless walls of the unfinished house at our Site.

He pointed out that he felt ashamed to disturb people with such trifles at the wartime.

All the hopes for getting electricity expired.

The mother-in-law conducted an operation aimed at rescuing the fridge contents. She cooked them at a short notice. The food products were saved from wasting. We had a nice feast. Regrettably my stomach couldn't stand up to the relish.

All the evening I was retracing my trot to the outhouse lavatory in the yard.

I dismantled the gas torch. Its flickering is too eye-fretting.

We use candles recycled by Sahtik over and over again.

It's half past ten in the evening. All are asleep.

I am going out after water. Hope there won't be too much people at such a time.

Good night, sleep tight, everybody.

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