stories they love terribly appreciate, they go, as they once ran on a bisborod to concerts by vasily uriyavskyr. vasya, well, before we go into conversations. someone should be presented with a letter of credence, perhaps someone else does not know who urievsky is, i don’t understand. what everyone here loves him so much. maybe then we'll sing something to begin with, and then we'll go and talk exactly for such an occasion . i have such a song. my life. kindergarten, we chew porridge and snot, the teacher asks a question, drowning out the screams. children, when they grow up, what the teacher will dictate , builder, doctor, and i will be a clown. it's me who is bold and bold from an early age. i didn't think much. standard. i ran and beat everyone with a rubber mallet. every day i had that not a day, then a sitcom told me. vasya is not good for behaving like that. and i took off my panties and showed buttocks. i broke the rules, i didn’t follow the rules, the ugly dunce, but the torva, but at matinees they always used me, i was a gnome, a parsley bunny. yes, yes, the audience greeted me with d