Garden
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Not a densely gathered poetry in 30 years, and a half things came out a year. Of course, this is not entirely true, because there were times when it turned out a lot and tasty and at the command of the soul, and about, and “on the anger of the day” and I wanted more and more!
Nevertheless, there were just usurpathic moments, when there was absolutely no matter to these stupid things.
I was born in 1965 in the village of Kulunda of the Altai Territory, in a family of young doctors. At the age of 9, a tugn one, screaming a spout, was moved in a reserved seat car to Mountain Altai, a village of Nemal, where mother and dad were given another job.
My first impressions are two mountains, a cross and a camel, two mountain rivers, Chemal and Katun, a fragrant, coniferous forest, narrow, narrow, winding a goat of a goat to the roaring Chemal hydroelectric power station and a can of honey in a stuffy pantry. I still walked badly, holding my hand over the wall, and found it by chance, but the product recognized and ate how much it got into, right with my hands ..., I was in honey. That was the case!
In 1969, again, in a reserved seat car, was transported to Barnaul, to a new market. There was the rest of childhood, adolescence, youth and N-coatity of mature years. There is the first creative experience. There is love. My children were born there. There, kindergarten No. 16 “Ship”, school No. 25, Altai medical named after the Lenin Komsomol, residency in eye diseases, the collapse of social. Camps and the USSR, commercial hardening and cutting in the 90s (Harbin - Dalyan - Moscow - Semipalatinsk - Pavlodar - Kemerovo - Novosibirsk - St. Petersburg - Minsk - Baranovichi - Pinsk and other cities and weights) 15 years on wings and on wheels. These were things!
In recent years, I have been living on the coast of the Black Sea, and I work in the north, but no matter what, it looks out of me every now and then, speaks, sometimes this barnaul is directly sticking out. City B, Barneapol, the capital of the world, ... my hometown!
Nevertheless, there were just usurpathic moments, when there was absolutely no matter to these stupid things.
I was born in 1965 in the village of Kulunda of the Altai Territory, in a family of young doctors. At the age of 9, a tugn one, screaming a spout, was moved in a reserved seat car to Mountain Altai, a village of Nemal, where mother and dad were given another job.
My first impressions are two mountains, a cross and a camel, two mountain rivers, Chemal and Katun, a fragrant, coniferous forest, narrow, narrow, winding a goat of a goat to the roaring Chemal hydroelectric power station and a can of honey in a stuffy pantry. I still walked badly, holding my hand over the wall, and found it by chance, but the product recognized and ate how much it got into, right with my hands ..., I was in honey. That was the case!
In 1969, again, in a reserved seat car, was transported to Barnaul, to a new market. There was the rest of childhood, adolescence, youth and N-coatity of mature years. There is the first creative experience. There is love. My children were born there. There, kindergarten No. 16 “Ship”, school No. 25, Altai medical named after the Lenin Komsomol, residency in eye diseases, the collapse of social. Camps and the USSR, commercial hardening and cutting in the 90s (Harbin - Dalyan - Moscow - Semipalatinsk - Pavlodar - Kemerovo - Novosibirsk - St. Petersburg - Minsk - Baranovichi - Pinsk and other cities and weights) 15 years on wings and on wheels. These were things!
In recent years, I have been living on the coast of the Black Sea, and I work in the north, but no matter what, it looks out of me every now and then, speaks, sometimes this barnaul is directly sticking out. City B, Barneapol, the capital of the world, ... my hometown!
Cover:
Cover:Hard
Category:
- Category:Fiction
- Category:Modern Literature
- Category:Poetry & Literature
Publication language:
Publication Language:Russian
Age restrictions:
Age restrictions:16+
ISBN:
ISBN:978-5-6042642-1-8
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