Book: Sanka

Not true when they say that life is always a choice. Sometimes there is no choice.

Oleg jumped out, opened the "Volga", came back with a flag.
- Such things should be done beautifully, - said Oleg.
Is a once in a lifetime, to do nicely, ' he repeated.

- How the hell do they have so much money? - habitually marveled Sasha on expensive cars, of which young people in good clothes. One this machine worth as much as my mother does not earn over a hundred and forty years. She that, does not work?.. Or am I again asking stupid questions?

You can argue with someone who seeks the truth with those who want to establish themselves in my opinion, useless to argue.

- Where are you going? - asked one of them unfriendly tone, which speaks all the police of Russia, like everyone they have encountered is already known to be a rascal.

He perched at the TV, flipping through it, habitually tuned to painless to receive several doses of vulgarity and ignorance.

I said I don't need any national ideas. You know? I do not need neither an aesthetic nor a moral basis for loving your mother or to remember father...

When every heart has their own story, to touch their hearts, maybe not. Is it necessary to go beyond what's beyond?

For you Russia has no ethnic meaning, not to mention the sense of spatial... are You mad, you are mired in spiritual experience - about him only and say. But the primary in your behavior still is not your quest, not your malonate understanding of good, which you so easily betray, hardly speech comes about a different understanding of being - is primary after all your frustration that you caught not so long ago and was crushed.

So many tears in your eyes. Smorgy, mother, it's unbearable.

Hell - when it is already impossible to suffer and die - not give.

Thought about her mother and Jan. They were replaced in the head, and both felt sorry for them intolerable, and both seemed native enough to die for them like immediately and easily.

Grandma said quietly:
- Sit at the window and sit, sit. I think someone would have told me to go a thousand Dan, barefoot, rain or winter to see their son, and I would have gone. Nisht no talking, no touching, just see how you breathe.
The grandmother said quietly, and the words it was the black terror, the almost unimaginable loneliness, which just recently thought of Sasha - the loneliness, the opened other side is huge, but devoid of echo, it did not respond in any way, to any voice.