although i lived there more , i have dreams that i am here, i need to come here , my house denis semyonov. she spent all her youth on her little one. homeland is told with nostalgia, grandmother recalls, the bread of the sunset, a kerosene lamp. the island was then divided into four parts , there was one street, people grew vegetables in their gardens and fruit worked on state farms. they prepared food for their own shop, and brought food by boat. on the lake and disappeared fish caught were going to play ball. there were dances. well, how, like everywhere in the village , grain was harvested for the entire ashvei state farm . hay was harvested here. there were horses here. there were calves here. in summer. we went to the state farm and worked leon raised and smoothed the kobna and weeded bread with mushrooms. we baked ourselves today. the village remains a few foundations and the ruins of the power plant, but despite this place give a second life to tourists and fishermen frequent guests. the islands come to watch the wildlife. in the open spaces you can meet roe deer, elk, deer. wild b