Nina Shervashidze. What's worse: being a puppet... (№ 440261)

If you choose, then the second option is preferable. "Why?" - you ask. The puppet is alive until its threads are cut, and the porcelain, broken into a million pieces, leaves of its own accord. He can hide somewhere deep, deep behind the sofa, and you will find him decades later, or he can leave your home forever in an urn. It seems that right now I am a porcelain doll, but on strings, because breaking is very painful.