577
Where freedom begins with "NO"
Let's all be left behind. Let the press, as a bunch of balloons lift us and will take over the sea and the mountains. Someday I'll write about it day by day, step by step, a study for the office, for the printing press. How stormed Maidan, and we sat in a cordon in the corridors of OPEC.
About pots with ficus in foster and dreary stands "Our joy" about the shabby corridors and hope Teplyaev in every crack imperfectly smooth walls. About how even come there to kill time in the life of most of its ostnovaniyah. And most want to run away in terror, while still warm in your living soul, to run, forgetting why he had come.
On what amazing people there, it turns out, for the cabinet doors. About snowmelt. About how senior rub and try to please everyone indiscriminately, and the younger, on the contrary, were frozen in a daze, and all children scurry and bustle seems a chronicle of silent movies.
Small Organizmica on legs - a child at home are the Office of Ministry of Health, and the children's homes - to min.obrazovaniya. There are treated, vaccinations and comply with sterility, there on each door announcement: "Quarantine for influenza. prohibited "Rendezvous with children. There transit - where naked give even go buy pants. There are already taught how about making the bed, to go and write a ticker.
About what is happening in the area. About how the mouths of babes suddenly says thug world. The fact that freedom on the cell dies within you, and gray rain outside window frames washes features of your face from the inside. And frightening willingness, at any moment, anyone can take, take, decide your fate as you like.
Oh how we were lucky to meet a living soul in these walls as a teacher and a soul capable of if you do not save, but save tens. Oh boy, feed the homeless dogs on the doorstep of the orphanage (than not the parable of the widow's mite?).
On a farewell letter to a ten-year girls mother who do not awake and not oversleep ( "I did not go with anyone else, because you're my mom, but I waited too long for you. You did not come. Now I'm leaving for good. If I have to . you mean something, you take away the sister of the child at home mom, you still can not drink and restore the rights I'm leaving forever I'm sorry and goodbye. "-. the letter still lies in the personal adopted daughter American girl - my mother behind him I never came).
And believe it really hard - and hike to the playground is a stupor and horror. Finally, the room has not called the "house", although every now and then she makes a mistake and shouts "There, on the bed in my room," and that the kitchen -. It is not a "dining room where the food issue»
And that is when the tooth is unsteady - and then drops out - it can be put under the pillow and the tooth fairy will fairing. This produces a much greater impression than all the stories about the world. The next morning at breakfast with the city: - You know, I Putin put under your pillow gift when I rolled this one tooth »
!. Dumb home and only then realize that the fairies were not in the children's world a government. The only good mythological character, suggestion children -. It is He Who in the Kremlin
And the first trip. And instead of joy - frantically clung to me saying handles better than any words: "Children, slide, swing - it was already .... Are you now leave me here. Did you give me back?. »
About how, in two or three years do not cry when fall and hit and even now at home after five minutes, I suddenly notice how little creature completely silently rubbing against the wall of his forehead in some corner and I see huge tears: why cry loudly if still can not hear, and not comforted.
Why protest against the pain, if it is given to you for a lifetime. And it is impossible to believe that you can finally be all good?
And mum-mum-mum, repeated every second - check really true. And the loyalty that other mother over who remembers her let narcotic vapors, even thrice betrayed and surrendered, but remembers and refuses to call my mother the other - only by name and only no-no, and slips off the tongue: - Mom, Mom, look, I drew!
And condescending generosity: the youngest - well, let calls - it is something that the other did not know - her happiness. And she was right in his inner faithfulness.
Now these first days home every whim elder whether whether the younger - happiness. And the main achievement of the first week of joyful freedom, "No". And the smile and laughter.
And push a spoonful of porridge, and turn away from the celebration of the burgers, which a week ago shoved in the mouth resigned. "No," you might say. No - I must say
. Freedom begins with a "no" where the submissive "yes" - is unacceptable, damaging and impossible. And, yes, it can be considered actual political statement.
Author: Yekaterina Margolis
(Artist and writer, mother 4 daughters. Two sisters living in different orphanages, Catherine adopted by a)
About pots with ficus in foster and dreary stands "Our joy" about the shabby corridors and hope Teplyaev in every crack imperfectly smooth walls. About how even come there to kill time in the life of most of its ostnovaniyah. And most want to run away in terror, while still warm in your living soul, to run, forgetting why he had come.
On what amazing people there, it turns out, for the cabinet doors. About snowmelt. About how senior rub and try to please everyone indiscriminately, and the younger, on the contrary, were frozen in a daze, and all children scurry and bustle seems a chronicle of silent movies.
Small Organizmica on legs - a child at home are the Office of Ministry of Health, and the children's homes - to min.obrazovaniya. There are treated, vaccinations and comply with sterility, there on each door announcement: "Quarantine for influenza. prohibited "Rendezvous with children. There transit - where naked give even go buy pants. There are already taught how about making the bed, to go and write a ticker.
About what is happening in the area. About how the mouths of babes suddenly says thug world. The fact that freedom on the cell dies within you, and gray rain outside window frames washes features of your face from the inside. And frightening willingness, at any moment, anyone can take, take, decide your fate as you like.
Oh how we were lucky to meet a living soul in these walls as a teacher and a soul capable of if you do not save, but save tens. Oh boy, feed the homeless dogs on the doorstep of the orphanage (than not the parable of the widow's mite?).
On a farewell letter to a ten-year girls mother who do not awake and not oversleep ( "I did not go with anyone else, because you're my mom, but I waited too long for you. You did not come. Now I'm leaving for good. If I have to . you mean something, you take away the sister of the child at home mom, you still can not drink and restore the rights I'm leaving forever I'm sorry and goodbye. "-. the letter still lies in the personal adopted daughter American girl - my mother behind him I never came).
And believe it really hard - and hike to the playground is a stupor and horror. Finally, the room has not called the "house", although every now and then she makes a mistake and shouts "There, on the bed in my room," and that the kitchen -. It is not a "dining room where the food issue»
And that is when the tooth is unsteady - and then drops out - it can be put under the pillow and the tooth fairy will fairing. This produces a much greater impression than all the stories about the world. The next morning at breakfast with the city: - You know, I Putin put under your pillow gift when I rolled this one tooth »
!. Dumb home and only then realize that the fairies were not in the children's world a government. The only good mythological character, suggestion children -. It is He Who in the Kremlin
And the first trip. And instead of joy - frantically clung to me saying handles better than any words: "Children, slide, swing - it was already .... Are you now leave me here. Did you give me back?. »
About how, in two or three years do not cry when fall and hit and even now at home after five minutes, I suddenly notice how little creature completely silently rubbing against the wall of his forehead in some corner and I see huge tears: why cry loudly if still can not hear, and not comforted.
Why protest against the pain, if it is given to you for a lifetime. And it is impossible to believe that you can finally be all good?
And mum-mum-mum, repeated every second - check really true. And the loyalty that other mother over who remembers her let narcotic vapors, even thrice betrayed and surrendered, but remembers and refuses to call my mother the other - only by name and only no-no, and slips off the tongue: - Mom, Mom, look, I drew!
And condescending generosity: the youngest - well, let calls - it is something that the other did not know - her happiness. And she was right in his inner faithfulness.
Now these first days home every whim elder whether whether the younger - happiness. And the main achievement of the first week of joyful freedom, "No". And the smile and laughter.
And push a spoonful of porridge, and turn away from the celebration of the burgers, which a week ago shoved in the mouth resigned. "No," you might say. No - I must say
. Freedom begins with a "no" where the submissive "yes" - is unacceptable, damaging and impossible. And, yes, it can be considered actual political statement.
Author: Yekaterina Margolis
(Artist and writer, mother 4 daughters. Two sisters living in different orphanages, Catherine adopted by a)
