and it was on the ancient one and when rustam khamdamov heard., i beg you, read akhmatova like this, i beg you, read it like that. where do i say that yes, yes, i acted and read, but do you remember there was such a blue collection, yes, from hand to hand, in principle, he is still alive to me. of course not. i read akhmat years later the homeleophist said that anya, not only in life, but also in poetry, constantly complained of a knife, delirium , shortness of breath, insomnia. and even the infantry. although she was distinguished by enviable health and appetites , she swam like a fish and slept, as a term, she had everything about what others. gumilyov said only dreams, but she spent whole days lying on the sofa, there her father sighing, she always managed to yearn and grieve and feel unhappy. i always returned to her cheerfully and festively with pleasure. coming home. i shouted at the established ritual geese, and if she was in a good mood , which happened very rarely, she answered loudly and swans, or just we and i, without taking off our c