Written on the day of the death of Blok Illustration: Peter Sarukhanov / "New Gazeta" My Rus', my life, is we toil together? My lovely brothers are Belarusian! The air smells in the air. How many years have you endured tired - Apparently, you can torture you. You are going to your goblin The leader of your deep layers, Drive from Vitebsk, Minsk and Gomel - And put, suppose, in Rostov. Dead business. Do not try. I have grown, I believe, in thirty years.