Translated material
Galina works for cheese
Dina Kabulova began to carry food homeless when she was seventeen, and has been doing this for five years. During this time, she met people who were temporarily on the street, and those who live on cardboard by the metro for years. Her stories about life on the street are not aimed at causing pity, disgust or encouraging someone to make a donation. In the new episode of the documentary cycle, Galina and Glory suddenly gain a roof over his head, and the mattress for “mu-mu” is empty.
We call up with Galya every day, and if someone overheard our conversations, I am sure that it would not have occurred to anyone that on the other side of the tube is not an ordinary grandmother who started two kittens, a puppy and tells about the garden and going to church on her weekend, and a woman with a 15-year experience of life outside.
Galya works six days a week, but I do not understand at all what is included in her duties. She talks about French cheese, deliveries, fairs that the owner regularly travels to Moscow. I don’t understand what cheese has to do with it and why a woman from the street was immediately taken to work for production.
“Dean, when will you come to me already?” I missed very much. Come, there is a river, you will swim, the berries are full. Come!
- I'll come, come, Gal, be sure. I’ll only finish working. What to bring you from Moscow? Clothes, maybe some?
- No, Dean, thanks, there are no clothes. Bring me the icon is better. But if you can’t - nothing! Most importantly, come yourself. I'll take the weekend just. I specially accumulated them to your arrival.
I never have money for vacation, so going to Gala seems not so bad idea. Indeed: river, forest - I will live with her. Galya was just moved from a common room to a separate house. Like in the village to my grandmother.
I decided that I would go on my birthday. She left the house at seven in the morning to catch the bus at 8:30. He walked for nine hours, then it was necessary to sit on the other and shake for about fifteen minutes to Maslovka.
We rode along a huge river, the sun shone brightly through the window and blinded our eyes. But I really wanted to watch. There were meadows behind the river, and sheep grazed on them. Real village. For these fifteen minutes on the bus we did not see a single oncoming car.
- And tell me, please, where is it better to go out to get into Oilka?
- Yes, there is no need to go there for a long time, you won’t confuse.
The bus slowed down, and I got out. Tired on the road and sat on a bench at the stop to take a breath.
In the place where glasses with ads are usually hanging, for some reason a large sign with the golden inscription “Gallery of French cheese”, and there are some still lifes below: cheese, wine, clay jugs. Everything is in medieval style.
A huge five -story building across the road. The first floor is like stone, and the next is wooden. At the top of the red roof. To the left of the house on the hill is a large wooden cross, and next to a round wooden sign. On the circumference of white on the red one, “Syr-Bor” is written in red, and inside the phone number and “French cheese from Maslovka” are written. In the center, the flag of France is drawn, on a blue gold letter “C”, on white - “s” and on red - “p”. It looks very ridiculous. I wonder who invented it.
Galya is coming towards. She is in a red tracksuit. We hug.
- Gal, why didn’t you say that you live in a medieval castle - I would dress more well ...
- Yes, here we have here! This is all Vladimir Yuryevich!
Galya, it seems, is so proud and glad that she does not read my irony.
- We’ll probably go first at first, you're tired of the road, and then I will introduce Vladimir Yuryevich.
We pass by the castle, then ordinary small houses go. Galya lives in the very last. At the entrance there is a couple of male dirty rubber boots.
- Galya, and whose?
- Yes, I did not specifically tell you: I wanted to brag about when I met. These are Leshins. He lives with me now.
- Wow, congratulations! Well, tell me later.
We enter the house, the room is very small. On the right is a stove, a table, a refrigerator. At the far wall there is a washing machine and a sink, and on the left there is a larger table, two rubbed chairs and a stool.
- Well, sit down, tell me. How are the guys at the station, what's new? How are you at work?
- Oh, yes the news is full. Parents took the glory home.
I think for a minute, I'm afraid to say excess. The day pops up in my head, when Glory wrote to me in Votsap that everything was fine and he got. A few weeks ago, his parents took him home to Moldova. Glory lived on the street not so long ago, and in general I had no doubt that he could return to a normal life. But they went with his girlfriend Lisa, who, in fact, grew on the street and does not know another life.
- Save this number. This is mine now, Moldavian. I'll call you on Saturday, you are a day off, as always?
The homeless phones usually do not linger for a long time. They are stealing at night, if things are not hidden well enough, or homeless people themselves sell them when they really need money.
When Glory was still here, he usually sent me SMS if he changed the number. "Dina, this is me, glory." Because once I said that it is very difficult for me to answer unfamiliar numbers and I am always nervous. Since then, he always wrote before calling, and even tried to introduce this practice among the rest of the homeless.
In the afternoon on Saturday, he asked if it would be convenient if he gains me at two, and called me in the video.
- Glory, how are you? How did you get? How did parents cursing a lot? What is your collarbone? How is Lisa?
Glory sits on the couch, I see a little room. It is spacious, at the very end there is a table, and behind it is a window with heavy green curtains and tulle. A burgundy carpet hangs on the wall. It is very unusual for me to observe glory in such an interior.
“Well ... you see, they put a gypsum to me, so I’m not going to die yet.” That's just, Dean ... There is no Lisa here. We drove off on the highway, the parents of the side of the road stopped and said hard: "Come out!" I begged them, asked, cried - they were in no. They said that I would find another hundred such lizes at home and there is nothing to carry her: only the smell of fumes in the car stands from it. I went out with her, slapped the door - and we went. Only now my father caught up with me, threw me into the car, and we left. I tore my hair on myself, but calmed down to the border. I decided that as soon as I treat, I would return right away.
I already called the Belarusian, asked him to look after Lisa while I was not. How she will be there - it will disappear. And I, as I will treat a little, - right back: we will remove the apartment, I will begin to work.
- Oh, Glory, it is a pity that everything turned out like that.
- Yes, nothing terrible: I’m here for a month, a maximum of one and a half. When you are at the station, can you dial me? And then the Belarusian does not pick up something for two days already-he probably laid it.
- Well, of course I will pick up! Tell me how you are.
Glory for a long time "drove" me on the rooms, showed the photos. Of course, almost nothing was visible on the screen, but I really did not want to interrupt it. It seemed that it was very important for me to see his house, some little things, family pictures. He talked about the nephews who came to visit yesterday. I listened with pleasure and rejoiced that so far Glory could not think about survival, but just resting.
- Well, come on, come on, you probably have to go out - you just start cooking at four?
I am pleased that Glory remembers that I do not like to respond to unfamiliar numbers, remembers that I live in short from the center and I still need time to get to the place where we cook food every week.
This room almost in the very center of Moscow is rented out for free of us one fund. Every Saturday, two people go to the store to buy food: 5 kilos of buckwheat, 20 white rifled loaves, 4 kilos of sausages, 6 cans of beef stew, 1 kilogram of mayonnaise, 3 spices for pilaf, 3 bulbs and 4 carrots, 100 bags of black tea, 1 kilogram of sugar, and on trifles, and 400 bags, 200 glasses and 200 glasses and 200 glasses and 200 forks.
Previously bought pork stew, because it is cheaper. And then on the distribution one of the homeless asked if there is pork in the pilaf.
- Well, yes, there is, but what?
- Ah, thank you very much, then I just have tea.
- But why?
- You see, I am even a person who has fallen, but a Muslim. And I try to eat pork if possible.
Since then, we have always been buying a stew.
Cooking begins at four hours - with pilaf. Onions and carrots must be cut and put in two multicarks for frying mode. At this time, water boils. In each slow cooker we pour two and a half kilograms of buckwheat, pour boiling water to the mark, throw spices and salt. While buckwheat is cooked, you need to have time to make sandwiches and tea.
We drove off on the highway, the parents of the side of the road stopped and said hard: "Come out!"Rita, one of the most “old” volunteers (she has been walking for six years), each time recalls that it is necessary to postpone two portions of buckwheat until they have time to add stew. This is for Dima Vegan. I really like that we try to remember about each person and take into account his features. Although the first thought was, of course - why are they picking up? Give free, do not want to - do not take it. It is clear that if each person (and on the day we meet almost two hundred homeless) will ask for something special, then nothing will work out. But in fact, it is not so difficult to buy with beef instead of pork stew and postpone a couple of servings without meat for vegan.
When all the food is ready, we sit in a circle and share on the routes. There are three of them. Today is twenty guys, mostly all students or recently got out. Ten people go to the first route: there are most homeless people - about eighty, sometimes even under a hundred. On the second - seven. There are usually three on my route.
We leave the guys from the metro, but the windfall is empty. And further, at the suburban cash desk, nobody. We go to the station building, put all the food on the tape, a backpack with thermos. The waiting room is also none of the homeless. Very strange.
“Okay, guys, then went to the park,” I say.
On the way I tell the latest news.
In the park and at Mu-Mu are empty. I don't understand what is happening. I try to call Khokhla and Belarusus - they are inaccessible. Ah, yes: Glory says that Belorus has not taken the phone for two days. Suddenly on a tree I notice a sheet A4, glued with tape. “Feeding is carried out at ____, next to the Pyaterochka store.” This is 10-15 minutes on foot.
- Then we go there soon, the guys are waiting for us.
Once I arrived at the station to convey something to someone-I don’t remember exactly, and just found this feeding. Several volunteers stood in the park, one man read something loudly, and a crowd of homeless people listened. They were separated by a gray fence. I came closer to listen. It was some kind of fragment from the Gospel. Five minutes later, the man read, closed the book and wished everyone a pleasant appetite. The volunteers began to open large packages, and from the homeless, who had before that stood in a large crowd, a slender line suddenly formed, and they began to take food. It was like a dining room where you put a tray on the tape and slowly pushes it. The movements were so clear - it seemed that these people repeated them more than one hundred times. The food looked very appetizing, and the portions were at least twice as much as we prepared.
Alexander, who always went without gloves in winter, once said: even if the money was distributed there, he would never go there. “At first they wash our brains, read their book, think that they will get into paradise faster, and then they give food like dogs. No, thank you, I’m better to stay hungry than I will endure this. ”
We pass by the station, then along the business center. Finally, I see the Pyaterochka store. In front of him under a tree, on some newspapers, two lie, hugging. They are covered with old jackets so that I do not see faces - only intertwined legs. Vika, Sasha and the dog are sitting nearby.
- Hi guys, why are you here now?
- Yes, the Cossacks do not give us at all. We thought they were driving a little-and they will calm down, but now they don’t let them go to the station. We hang around here, only at night we sometimes return, otherwise it is very cold.
- And who is this here? New couple?
The jackets slowly begin to move, and the woman sits down. She straightens the cap - and now I see that this is Lisa. The second also crawls out. This is a Belarusian.
- Dinochka, hello! How are you?
Now I do not know how to fulfill Slavin a request. Should Lisa say that he asked to call? How Belorus will now look in the eyes of glory: they are almost the best friends.
- Liz, can you for a moment?
She gets up, but almost immediately falls. Belarusian picks her.
- Hey, more carefully: you will come in handy for us!
We move with Lisa a few meters so that no one will hear.
“Liz, Glory asked me to call him in Wottsap when you and I will see you.” Do you want to talk to him?
- Yes, of course I want! Call soon!
I peer into her face and try to guess thoughts. What does she feel now? Are she ashamed? Does she justify herself that a young woman on the street is really easier to be with someone than one? Will she lie with fame or admit?
I look at the Belarusian. We are not very familiar - I know him rather just as a friend of glory.
- Slavaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! We were driven away again, here we now live on the lawn. Look what a dog I have! Belarusian found it.
I do not want to eavesdrop and leave in the other direction to chat with the rest.
- Sasha, how are you here, in a new place?
-How-how-you laugh, or what? Look, look: the poor crest is completely bent.
I have not noticed him before. There really is a crest on bare ground. He bent into the pose of the embryo and all shakes. I run up, squatting.
- Hey, Cohhol, what's wrong with you? What are you?
He has a red face and sweat is poured with a stream - I have never seen this before.
- Khokhol, why are you silent? I'm scared, let's call an ambulance.
-Nothing, nothing, endure, everything will be fine.
He speaks very slowly, hoarse whisper.
- What happened to you? I will not leave you like that! Speak quickly!
“Dean, I would mine the minerals.” Buy, I will be grateful to you.
- Maybe an ambulance is better?
- No, they will not help me there. Buy minerals is simple.
- Well, look with me! You will die, and then I will suffer. Give a better doctor?
- That's it, Dean, leave me alone. If you want to help, bring mineral water.
I am not at all offended at him, although the words sound quite sharply. But by intonation it is always possible to understand that he does not mean anything bad.
The fair is coming soon
- Dina? Hey, are you here? What did you think about?
-Ah, yes, yes, you asked something?
- Well, you give, it’s completely tired of the road! I say: how is it at the station, what news?
- Well ... Glory went home to be treated. But it will return soon.
- You already said.
- Ah, yes. They still went to another place, about fifteen minutes from the park. The crest was sick of something. When I saw him for the last time, sweat flowed directly from him and he somehow shook hard all the time.
- Do you know what? He sits on the heroine. It broke him, probably. I thought everything was already in the know.
- Wow, wow, I did not know!
Two kittens run around the stone floor. The table is covered with a tablecloth with a pattern of green apples and bright red berries. It has an old radio, several newspapers, Sudoku, glasses. Galya pours tea.
“You still have a rest, but I need to run the cheese.”
- Gal, well, I just arrived, let's sit together, even if we have a tea.
- Yes, it's fast, do not worry.
Galya opens the front door - and the puppy runs up. I cry out.
- Don’t be afraid! This is mine! He is kind. You still go to the second, leave things. And then come to the house to Vladimir Yuryevich, I will introduce you.
The road that leave the house of Dina Kabulova , Semyon Sheshenin , Anastasia Krenyuk how those who do not let their own children, resentment and shame in the continuation of the documentary of the Samizdat about the life of Moscow homeless people do not let on the thresholdThe second floor is very dark. In the far left corner is a small bedside table covered with a white tablecloth, and on it icons. On the right TV. There is one large bed and a tiny sofa.
I put my backpack on the floor next to the sofa and go down.
I go past every small house and try to imagine who lives there, what kind of people are, where they came from, why they were here.
I open a large oak door and go. Galya stands right at the entrance, she has a handkerchief on her head, and she holds her hands behind her.
- Oh, and here you are, I just spoke about you here! Vladimir Yuryevich, meet: this is Dina.
Vladimir Yuryevich looks about sixty. It is quite tall, almost bald. He has a thick gray mustache. Dressed unusual. Gray pants, as if for fishing, a gray shirt and a black leather vest.
- Galya, you go to salt for now, and we will talk. Well, sit down. Hungry?
It’s pretty dark here. On the stone walls, paintings hang within the framework, almost like at a stop. Medieval still lifes, but also some knights. Vladimir Yuryevich put me at a huge wooden table on which clay dishes stands.
- I have a lot of education: the Faculty of Philosophy of Moscow State University, graduate school MSTU named after Bauman, the Institute of the French Press in the Sorbonne. I perfectly know French, I lived in France for twenty years. He used to work as a journalist, and then decided to become a farmer. I had a plot near Moscow, in the Ruzsky district, there are sheep, chickens, cows. And then the city began to advance, the village began to retreat, and I bought here, in the Lipetsk region, 200 hectares of land. For a year he built a house, brought French masters to teach my children the skill of real French cheese. My cheese took Honorary Awards in France many times at exhibitions.
Come on, I'll show you the house and the cellar. We have hundreds of cheeses there. And a piece of one hundred grams, by the way, at least 600 rubles costs.
Vladimir Yuryevich leads me all over the house, shows his library, paintings. There is everywhere massive wooden furniture, chandeliers, candlesticks, icons. On the second floor in a special room behind Galya glass in a white robe and a scarf, it puts white mass from a huge pan into small molds from a huge pan. There are several metal containers on the table, two fans work. I waving gala with my hand through the glass. She notices - and waves in response. This room is similar to surgical: everything is white, sterile. Only Galya for some reason without gloves.
“I don't give them money. I bring clothes sometimes. "Мы поднимаемся на самый последний этаж.
— Я предоставляю невероятные возможности, чтобы человек вернулся к нормальной жизни. Даю кров над головой, работу. Если кто приходит, я его никогда не оттолкну. Но за двадцать лет у меня только один успешный случай. Даже социологи пишут, что, если пять процентов людей выберутся с улицы, — уже хорошо. Но мой опыт — другой. Кого я только у себя не принимал. И уголовников бывших, и бомжей, которые всю жизнь не работали. Вы, девушка, жизни просто ещё не знаете. Я им денег не даю. Приношу одежду иногда. А потом вижу, что штаны, которые я буквально месяц назад дал, в мусоре лежат. Я спрашиваю: «Ты зачем штаны новые выкинул?» А он смотрит на меня и даже не стыдится. «Они в грязи испачкались», — говорит. «А стирать тебя не учили?» — «А зачем мне стирать — новые же можно взять». And so always. Им всё готовое принеси. Они привыкли, что им все всё должны, а они самые несчастные.
Был тут у меня один. Я его пастухом назначил. Всего 150 овец. Возвращается он как-то, говорит: двоих не нашёл — убежали, наверное. Потом я через месяц ещё недосчитался. Вызываю его, спрашиваю, куда овец дел. А он не признаётся. Ну и я потом как-то по своим каналам узнал, что он овец в соседнее село на мясо продавал, а деньги пропивал. Ну я его и выгнал. Сейчас пастух у нас Лёша, который с Галей живёт. Хороший мужик. Правда, тоже выпить любит. Но пока не подводил ни разу.
А помочь человеку мне только один раз удалось. Его Олег зовут, мой крёстный сын. Он ко мне попал, когда ему двадцать лет было. Плохо говорил, мычал, был совершенно запущенный и заброшенный. Я его на ноги поставил, сейчас ему больше сорока, у него семья, работа.
На самом последнем, пятом, этаже у Владимира Юрьевича кабинет. Огромный стол, заваленный бумагами. Компьютер стоит у окна, а оттуда невероятный вид, который меня поразил ещё в автобусе. Тут можно долго стоять, как на смотровой площадке. Река, а за ней поля и овцы пасутся. Very beautiful.
Я спускаюсь обратно к Гале, она как раз тоже хотела провести для меня экскурсию, но уже по участку.
— На всей территории живут 150 овец, 4 лошади, 30 коз, немного свиней, — рассказывает Галя. — В день делаем примерно 50 килограмм сыра, но сейчас почти не поспеваем. Работников мало. Лёша вот пасёт, ещё несколько девчонок со мной сыр делают, там вот, подальше, в домах таджики живут. А за домами у меня огородик. Я там зеленушку посадила, перчики. Своё всегда приятнее.
Мы проходим мимо загона для коз, Галя гладит самую большую по голове. Всё же Галя тут на своём месте. Я и не знала, что она так хорошо управляется с животными.
— Галь, а сколько вам платят, если не секрет?
— Пока нисколько. Я же в доме обставленном живу, Владимир Юрьевич сам продукты покупает мне и даёт. Сигареты всем тут бесплатно положены, только я их не могу курить: «Прима», без фильтра, я кашляю очень сильно потом. Но всё равно беру. Вот будем пол с Лёшкой стелить — попросим таджиков подмогнуть, а чем платить — денег-то нет. Вот сигаретами и расплатимся. Я иногда прошу немного денег, но стараюсь не наглеть.
- How?! Я думала, вы на зарплате! А когда будут платить?
— Не знаю, пока непонятно. Пока я как бы на испытательном сроке. Ну ладно, пойдём домой, поздно уже.
На следующий день я проснулась в девять, а Гали уже не было. Я позавтракала и пошла на речку. Время текло очень медленно. Хотя в деревне всегда так.
— Алло, Галя, ну вы где? Утром ушли, пока я даже не проснулась, сейчас уже два, а вас нет.
— Приду, приду сейчас, ставь чайник. Там на плите супчик, поешь обязательно.
- And you?
— А я уколоться инсулином не успею, надо бежать сыры переворачивать, а то Владимир Юрьевич ругаться будет.
— Галь, ну нельзя же так, вы когда ели-то в последний раз? Небось утром?
— Да я сегодня проспала, не успела. Теперь только вечером.
— Нет уж, я вас никуда не пущу, пока не поедите. У вас же диабет, нельзя так редко есть.
— А кто вместо меня сыр переворачивать будет? Всё, давай, я побежала. I'll come in the evening.
Весь оставшийся день я маялась и не знала, чем себя занять. Ходила к реке ещё несколько раз туда-сюда, но слоняться уже надоело, я всё же была настроена, что мы будем в основном общаться с Галей. А она работает всё время.
Вот и сейчас: уже восемь вечера, а она только пришла и села в кресло.
— Галя, ну нельзя так много работать. Вы же сегодня с семи утра на ногах. И вообще, вы обещали, что возьмёте пару выходных, когда я приеду.
— Ну не обижайся. Я просила Владимира Юрьевича, он вначале пообещал, а потом сказал, что никак не может отпустить — ярмарка на носу.
— Ну хорошо, а завтра хотя бы выходной?
— Нет, завтра тоже работаю.
I don't understand. Но, похоже, Гале тут очень нравится. Она с гордостью рассказывает про свою работу, что ей доверяют такое сложное и ответственное дело. Конечно, ей тут гораздо лучше, чем на улице. Дом с удобствами, огород, работа, котята. Даже вот мужчина появился. Может, конечно, это так совпало и обычно она работает не так много.
— Галь, а как вам тут вообще? Вы не устаёте?
— Как не устаю? Устаю, конечно. Но я работать люблю. Ты же меня знаешь. Когда работа есть или дела, я сразу пить бросаю. Новую жизнь начинаю. Я, кстати, Дин, вот о чём хотела с тобой поговорить. Ты можешь в «Одноклассниках» найти сына моего? Я тут иногда сидела вечерами одна, пока ещё Лёши со мной не было. И так грустно на душе становилось. Дочь меня уже никогда не простит, но вот, может, сын? Давай поищем его. Я бы очень хотела, чтобы он сейчас увидел, как я живу. Мне теперь не стыдно, у меня дом свой, хозяйство, работа. Может, мы бы созвонились как-нибудь? Я бы что угодно сделала, на колени встала перед ним, если бы он только выслушать меня согласился. Раньше-то мне даже подумать о таком стыдно было. Я на вокзале, пьяная, не пойми с кем общаюсь, работы нет, паспорта нет. А сейчас… вдруг он меня когда-нибудь простит.
Следующий час я регистрируюсь в «Одноклассниках», и мы безуспешно пытаемся найти Галиного сына. Во «ВКонтакте» его тоже нет.
— Ну Галь, не расстраивайтесь, я потом дома ещё поищу.
— Значит, время ещё не пришло. Ладно, поздно уже, пошли спать. Мне завтра вставать опять рано.
На часах 10 вечера, и мы поднимаемся на второй этаж. Кровать Гали и Алексея аккуратно застелена махровым покрывалом. Галя включает телевизор, я пытаюсь посмотреть расписание автобусов в Москву, но ничего не выходит. Тут почти не ловит интернет, и я снова спускаюсь на первый этаж.
To the exit
— Да, Владимир Юрьевич, да, я вас поняла, буду очень быстро, не кричите, я уже иду!
— Галь, ты совсем ебанулась? Куда ты ночью собралась? Ты вообще-то ему не рабыня.
— Лёш, остынь, мне и так перед Динкой стыдно, она приехала, а мы толком не поговорили даже. И ты ещё.
— Галь, извините, я слышала, как вам Борев позвонил. Может, я вас лучше отсюда заберу?
— Ты что, с ума сошла?! Опять на улицу? Тем более ты сама говоришь: там казаки вовсю хозяйничают. У меня тут свой дом, телевизор, огород, Лёша. Я без Лёши вообще никуда не поеду. Ничего, скоро полегче будет.
На завтрак Галя приготовила жареные кабачки. Упаковала в контейнер и положила в пакет мне в дорогу.
— Дин, спасибо тебе большое, что приехала. Жаль, что выходных взять не удалось. Но приезжай ещё, пожалуйста, я буду очень ждать. Вот мы пол постелим, теплее станет, и ты даже зимой сможешь приехать.
Галя отворачивается в сторону и достаёт маленькую цветную коробочку.
— Вот, это тебе на день рождения. Я всё не знала, что подарить. Да и видишь: времени совсем нет выезжать в город.
- Thanks a lot!
Это духи. У меня, кажется, никогда раньше не было своих духов.
Галя идёт провожать меня к автобусу. У ворот замка почему-то стоит полицейская машина.
— Галь, а что случилось?
— Да они постоянно приезжают. Им Владимир Юрьевич сыр и продукты всякие фермерские дарит, чтобы у нас лишний раз документы не проверяли. А как ты думаешь тут такие, как я, живут?
— М-м-м, понятно. OK.
Мы обнимаемся на прощанье и уходим в разные стороны. Я оборачиваюсь, а Галя смотрит и вытирает рукавом лицо, прямо как когда мы с ней в первый раз ходили делать документы.
Следующий месяц мы всё время были на связи, Галя рассказала, что Лёша постелил на первом этаже новый пол, а в огороде даже кое-что удалось вырастить. On Sundays, she is given a day off, and she goes to church in the city, puts candles for the health of her daughter and son, and Vladimir Yuryevich even promised to pay her inserting teeth. It seemed that you could calm down a little and everything was getting better.
Но в один вечер вдруг ни с того ни с сего Галя позвонила и сказала:
— Я тут больше не могу, я уйду.
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