Translated material
From three to twelve
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The road archive of the pope
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Family portrait of his father with parents. Against the background - a collage of several road photographs taken by dad
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Dad dreamed that one day he could take me to Gurzuf - a place in which he spent his youth and which he loved most. After his death, I went there - already one
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0The archival portrait of his father, his manuscript and the end of his book of memoirs dedicated to the life of Russian in America
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0When his father left the USSR, his connection with his parents was interrupted only in a spatial sense. They never lost each other - until the last day
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Repatriation from New York to St. Petersburg took twelve days. The father’s body could not be taken out for a long time due to the fact that his birth certificate was lost
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0The road archive of the pope
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Due to the explosive nature, by stupidity, the father sometimes got into an American prison. There, according to his stories, he was tortured. Despite this, he wrote a lot: on toilet paper, cardboard, documents. In the future, these notes are more shore than personal items
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0In my childhood, dad taught me to play chess. He dreamed that I became a master. He believed that the ability to risk one of the most important in this game
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Photo of our first meeting and photo from the archive. According to my mother, I got used to dad almost immediately. He constantly wore me on his shoulders, and it had a lot of fun
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Kitchen in the apartment of the grandmother. Drawing about bad "before" and good "after"
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Dad and his brother Sashka were the best friends, the people closest to each other. Sasha died of lung cancer. Fifteen years later, dad left oncological disease. Against the background - a certificate of death of the father
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Road to the Blue Lake, Nalchik
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Dad died on December 1. The first snow fell on this day. Dad hated the winter because he was very freezing due to illness. Even in the summer he walked in warm clothes
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Self -portrait
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0The road archive of the pope
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Photo of dad on the backdrop of twin towers. On the left he is more than fifty years old. On the right - about twenty -five. Over the years, he practically did not change, remaining the twin of himself different times. There are no more twins
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Buried on the third day. On the third day, they sent me a photo of my father in the coffin - in case his body is damaged and the coffin cannot be opened after repatriation. At first I closed his face with threads, then - my hands, realizing that for me the memory of my father is his hands holding behind the wheel
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Army photo from the archive of the father. There are several of his prints left on it. A little later, I added my prints in the photo
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Grandmother sorting out an archive with children's photos of her father
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Grandma holds a portrait of dad and his brother Sasha in her hands
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 010-4-a special designation among truckers, means "the message has accepted" or "everything is in order." Since childhood, dad and I used these numbers in a household conversation as a secret cipher
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0The path in the snow. My father sent me this car with a parcel from the USA when I was about seven years old
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Road photography from the archive of the pope and his school portrait with a cut face as a symbol of the inevitability, the predetermination of his fate
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0The road archive of the pope. One of the first large walkers in the United States
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Some American rights of my father and photos to documents that symbolize for me the course of time and irreversibility of changes in a person
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0The road archive of the pope
Since childhood, my father ran away from home. When he was five years old, he got a hare on the Leningrad -Voronezh train to go to his grandmother. He fell asleep on the luggage shelf. Only in the middle of the path he was removed and returned home
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Sitting on the embankment in Gurzuf, I tried to catch what my father saw in this place. It seemed to me that between mine and his Gurzuf the abyss. Only stones remained, which we both could concern
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Photo from the family archive. Our legs with dad. The author is mom
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Self -portrait
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Portrait of mom. Snow
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0Dad knew all the layouts in the city - they count the distance from the Winter Palace. The number on this, closest to our house, he forced me to remember from childhood. Twenty six. I remember
Photo: Tatyana Kireicheva 0 of 0 Thank you for the end to the end!Every day we write about the most important problems in the country. We are sure that they can be overcome only by talking about what is really happening. Therefore, we send correspondents on business trips, publish reports and photo stories. We collect money for many funds - and do not take any interest on our work.
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