This story is intended
answer the silent question of those
who dare not ask.
***
- Tell me, Nathan, have you ever been sorry that you are so tall?
- Was. Here, listen to a story that happened to me on the way home one warm summer evening.
That evening, as usual, I drove to the railway station and began to wait for the 8th trolleybus. There were not many people, and therefore I noticed a girl standing a little apart from the main mass of people, but obviously waiting for the same trolleybus. She caught my eye and raised an eyebrow questioningly. I had not the slightest intention of meeting her, and I simply smiled and, shrugging my shoulders, turned away and began to look at the station building.
When the trolleybus pulled up, I quickly got in and sat down in the first available seat. The girl sat opposite me, and I'm sure that not on purpose, there were simply no other places. For lack of anything better, I began to examine her again, this time more carefully. She was very pretty, with large green eyes and a sensual mouth, regular features and a small nose, slightly upturned, which spoke of a quarrelsome character. One detail deserved my special attention- the girl, with full development, which was by no means a child's chest, was very tiny in stature. At first she did not pay any attention to me, then she looked at me intently and turned away.
When I was about to leave, she came up to me and, touching my cheek, whispered:
- You're so tall - and walked away.
The trolleybus pulled up to my stop. The doors opened and as I was leaving, I turned around and looked at her. She cried.

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Sights of the Golden Ring of Russia. Short story Rostov the Great. The main attractions of Rostov Veliky. Photo. Description. Addresses. History of Rostov the Great for children summary. What to see in Rostov the Great in 1-2 days. Year of foundation, monasteries, museums of Rostov the Great.

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Rostov the Great. Brief history and main sights of Rostov the Great.

Yaroslavl region | Population: 30 thousand people | From Moscow: 216 km

Rostov the Great is located on the shore of Lake Nero. One of the oldest cities in Russia, first mentioned in the annals 862 years. IN Soviet years Rostov was included in the Golden Ring of Russia tourist route.

In 989, the son of Prince Vladimir Boris baptized the townspeople. Not without resistance, the spread of Christianity in these lands begins. In 991, Prince Vladimir and Bishop Fyodor, consecrating
waters of Lake Nero, baptized the inhabitants of the city. In memory of this event, a Poklonny cross was erected on the shore of the lake (2015).

In the year of the christening of Rostovites, a wooden
Assumption Cathedral- one of the first Orthodox churches in Rus'.
The existing temple is already the fifth one built on this
place. It was built in 1515, served as a tomb
Rostov metropolitans. The prince of Rostov is buried here
Vasilko, who died on the river Sit in the battle with the Tatars.

From the 10th century, Rostov was one of the capitals of the Rostov-Suzdal land, then it was part of the Vladimir-Suzdal principality. At the beginning of the 13th century, Rostov became an independent center, stone construction was actively carried out here, and extensive libraries were created. Rostov becomes the Orthodox center of North-Eastern Rus'. After joining the Moscow principality (15th century), the city retains the status of the church center of Russia.

Rostov suffered greatly during the Time of Troubles. In 1608 it was destroyed and plundered, the Poles captured Metropolitan Filaret, father of Mikhail Romanov - the future sovereign. After the Time of Troubles, Rostov was fortified with earthen ramparts, which have partially survived to this day.

Assumption Cathedral

In the second half of the 17th century, at the behest of the Metropolitan Iona Sysoevich In Rostov
to build a new bishop's court - the residence of the metropolitans. For 20 years, a complex of several temples, chambers, surrounded by a high fortress wall with 11
towers. Today, the former residence is Museum-reserve "Rostov Kremlin".

One of the outstanding buildings of the Kremlin - Belfry. 15 bells were cast for her,
the largest bell - "Sysoy" weighing 32 tons is named after the father of Metropolitan Jonah.
The bells have an individual tonality, their chimes are called
"Rostov bells" - they can be heard in the summer, during bell concerts.

In 1788 the residence of the bishops was moved to
Yaroslavl to the Spaso-Preobrazhensky Monastery,
converted into a bishop's house.

Now the Rostov Kremlin is a large museum complex,
where collections of icons, facial embroidery, ancient Russian manuscripts, archeological monuments are collected. During the summer season, you can
visit the gate temples and see the unique wall paintings, walk along the transitions of the walls, climb to the observation deck, which offers a wonderful view of
Lake Nero.

In the 18th century, Rostov developed enamel painting
(glassy coating on a metal base).
There are two museums dedicated to enamel in Rostov at once -
at the factory "Rostov Finift" and in the Rostov Kremlin.

One of the most beautiful monasteries Spaso-Yakovlevsky Dmitriev Monastery located
on the shore of the lake Nero. It was founded at the end of the 14th century by Bishop Jacob. Glory of the monastery
associated with the name of Dmitry of Rostov, whom Peter I appointed metropolitan in 1702.

15 km from Rostov on the road to Uglich in the village. Borisoglebsky was once located alone
from the richest monasteries in Russia - Boris and Gleb Monastery(1363). Wall length
the monastery is more than 1 km, the height is 10-12 m. 14 towers have a height of 20 to 40 m.

Sergius of Radonezh pointed out the place of the foundation of the monastery to its founders Theodore and Paul.
Here, before going to Moscow, Minin and Pozharsky came - to get
the blessing of the elder Irinarkh, who spent 25 years in his cell, chaining himself to a log.
At the same time, he wore chains weighing more than 100 kg.

Located near Rostov Trinity-Sergius Varnitsky Monastery(1427).
The monastery was founded in the former Varnitskaya Sloboda, where St. Sergius
Radonezh. During the Soviet years, most of the buildings of the monastery were destroyed,
restoration of the architectural complex began in last years. The abode is
courtyard of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra.

PLAN OF THE ROSTOV KREMLIN

A - CATHEDRAL SQUARE

B - DOMINANT'S YARD

IN - METROPOLIC GARDEN

Kremlin plan

1. John's Church
Theologian

2. Church of the Hodegetria.
Shining gold and azure

3. Church
Sunday

6. Judgment order.
Enamel Museum

9. Water tower.
Observation deck

10. Samuil Corps.
Gallery, department
Old Russian. art

A middle-aged man walked along Pokrovka in a green work jacket that had seen Moscow from a bird's eye view, and a shabby leather cap with a button, holding a screaming tricolor cat in a collar with a "butterfly" around its neck. Passers-by partly shunned silently, partly indignantly following: where is he dragging her, isn’t it to the knacker’s yard? Meanwhile, a cat named Dusya and a humbly smiling man, Ivan Andreevich Duhin, had a complicated relationship, which, if I were more reverent, could also be called love.

Fate rewarded me with friendship with Andreich at a time when you begin to lose the ability to do this work, which requires considerable mental effort. Irreplaceable losses, which, as it turned out, you were not able to resist, destroyed the idea of ​​\u200b\u200bthe endless extent of coexistence with people. And it was not always smart enough to understand that communication with them here and now justified unfulfilled plans, unwritten lines, untaken photographs.

Half-milked vanity mooed from an excess of milk and called: "Sit down at the table!" And I sat down, looking behind me: “Did you want this?”

I am at the table and the table is set. Here it is, dear to my heart, life among my beloved forever Misha Chavchavadze, Slava Frantsev, Seryozha Kupreev, Devik Borovsky, Slava Golovanov ... Among the pipe maker Alexei Fedorov, Bulat (although we did not often meet), Andrei Dmitrievich, women Maria Primachenko, Yegor Yakovlev ... And among the living, thank God! (The following is a list no shorter than the first.)

Well, what have you done for the wasted time, this vanity mumbles, crawling into the frame with a swollen udder? "Spent ..." Read - wasted.

Sometimes, succumbing to the passive laziness and gloom of the Moscow winter, I hear this dull voice, calling for comparable success, and I recall the phrase of the full-bodied, with a serviceable, which is true, bust, the second wife of one of my first friends: “What a life you blew!” And then in my imperfect memory I build a circle - a talisman of the various lives that surpass me in dignity, which fate has bestowed on me, and I say to myself: “Think sometimes what you think about!”

Well, yes, many turned out to be smarter and more diligent. In hard and soft covers, their accomplishments are admirable. What good fellows... They have collected time and have issued it more intelligently. But who spent it more and better than me?!

And in this circle, where there is no one in the center, so as not to interfere with communication, I see Ivan Andreevich with my cat Dusya in her arms.

Locksmiths, roofers at Chistye Prudy, library and museum workers, Daneliya, Neyolova, Ioseliani, Bitov, Akhmadulina ... everyone who knew him and, therefore, loved him, does not need to introduce Dukhin, but you - perhaps. Self-taught encyclopedic knowledge, a lover of Tyutchev's poetry, all of whose poems he remembered by heart, a collector of old cast stove doors, a connoisseur of arched bells, which had no equal, the author of a book about Russian bell factories, a serious reader of historical and philosophical literature, he earned his bread by roofing, where he was not just a reliable professional, but an artist who, without any need, created such beautiful drainpipes that it was a pity to hang them on the street. On them, by golly, I wanted to play. And once it happened.

Ivan Andreyevich and I are at the stables. Soon there will be "Dukhin's garden"

Andrey Bitov came to my workshop, called the Stables, because here, as Andreevich said (and he knew!), the horses of the tea-breeder Botkina once stood here, with our friends - the famous percussionist Vladimir Tarasov and saxophonist Vladimir Chekasin. And then Vanya appears with a new trumpet, which jazz improvisers immediately and successfully interpreted as musical instrument wind and percussion at the same time.

Dusya sat on the table as an equal partner in this incredible jam session, only in silence. Possessing dignity and tact, at a feast she usually sat on a bench so that everyone could be seen, but when the conversation lost interest for her, she left or lay down on the countertop away from plates and glasses to take a nap, opening one eye from time to time. It wasn't that she didn't approve, she kept it under control.

Ioseliani invited his French film colleagues to the Stable in my absence for the soiree. Dusya returned from a walk, during which she taught her friend Zhora how to climb a vertical fire escape to the roof, and, seeing the meeting, she decided to see how things were going with the snack, because she, knowing Otar Davidovich, had no doubts about drinking.

— Que terrible! - the guests were alarmed in French. - You have a cat on the table!

“This is not a cat,” answered Ioseliani in the language of Moliere and Racine, “this is our comrade!”

So it was.

Dusya happened by accident. She came to the door of the workshop, and Vanya fed her. Then I came. Andreevich (who had taken care of the unfortunate dog and about five abandoned cats at home, and the one-eyed Flint in a tiny windowless workshop, where he sometimes dozed along with the cat on a workbench for cutting pipes and wind vanes) said:

- Yura, what do we have in the Stable, except for the fly Marta and the spiders Mitya and Motya, there is no one alive. Let it be.

- Dusya! (She somehow immediately turned out to be Dusya.) Go home!

The cat looked at us, entered and, sitting on a bench, began to wash. In an instant, she became the mistress.

- That's the way it should have been. Dusya turned out to be wiser than all the women who had the dubious fortune of contacting you,” said Olga Borisovna Barnet, who herself sheltered the homeless cat Kissinger and picked up an incredibly kind stray dog. Although Matvey is inferior in intelligence to the mongrel Chapa who once lived at Barnet, comparable in intelligence and beauty only to Golda Meir, he is stately and on his three healthy legs could elegantly escape from any dog ​​that surpassed him in aggressiveness. That is, from anyone.

One summer, freeing up time for me to travel and Andreich to work on the rooftops in the Moscow region, Dusya, completely ignoring Matvey, lived happily in the countryside, teaching Kissinger to climb trees and dragging him out to night parties with village boyfriends. The following year, I again brought her to Dorofino and, after unconvincingly saying goodbye to the cat, soon left for Moscow. A day later, Olya called and said that Dusya had disappeared. She didn't show up the next day either. On the evening of the third day, alarmed Olga Borisovna, who had searched all the surroundings to no avail, told me to immediately go to the village.

- Maybe she was offended by your usual behavior and hid somewhere.

Having covered two hundred and fifty kilometers, I arrived at the area at night and, without getting off the car, went to search. The cat recognized the sound of my car and, hearing the Niva driving into the yard, always ran to meet me. Having taxied into the raspberry thickets, near which Kissinger was sitting, I opened the door without turning off the engine and called: “Darling!” She climbed out of the bushes, jumped onto the seat and lay down, showing with her whole appearance that the rest was over.

Home! On the roof! To Vanya, to friend Zhora, to endless boyfriends with torn ears and mugs that would look good in crimson jackets in the fashion of that time.

With the advent of Dusya, Andreevich and I began a new life. Responsible. However, she was always responsible for him. In the refrigerator, in addition to film, there were products. If Dusya did not meet in the yard or did not take care of the household, I was seized with anxiety. And only when she returned from her romantic or educational travels did I calm down.

She climbed to the roof on a vertical fire escape with the dexterity of a circus acrobat and taught this trick to her suitors, from whom there was no end. It is clear that she was a beauty: tricolor fur, fluffy sideburns, a collar with a small "butterfly" on a white shirt, white gloves and incredible passion. The sons-in-law yelled nightly on the roof. Understandably, however, when she brought kittens for the third time in a year, Andreich and I decided: of course, nature and all that, but ...

- She wanders at night, and here a pack of stray dogs is operating.

- Let her give birth, and then we will perform the operation.

And I left, leaving Dusya with Vanya, and when I returned, I saw a note on the table with the inscription "Dusin's diary." And subsequently, during my absences, Andreich made notes on unnecessary envelopes, cardboard boxes, random sheets, ignoring the notebook that I left for him, considering clean, good paper worthy of a more serious attitude than writing on the occasion. In this we are similar. I have a lot of beautiful notebooks waiting in the wings, but nothing.

"April 30. On Easter night, Dusya and I were disturbed by one of her friends, who stomped on the roof like an elephant and climbed out the window. We rushed to the defense of our wigwam, and therefore woke up late.

1st of May. It got cold and windy. He did not order Dusya to go to the demonstration, which she listened to.

May 2. On the night before the second, a tragedy broke out near the basement of the locksmiths. A pack of dogs strangled the cat. I heard barking. While he jumped out (in his shorts), ran - it was too late. Then they could not sleep with Dusya for a long time. Dusya, apparently, understands. I was very worried."

And I went to a veterinary hospital in the Begovaya district, where they promised a abdominal operation, that is, plow the cat, then sew it up as best they can, and bring it for injections or inject it myself for 12 (twelve) days.

- Well, them, - said Vanya. - I have, if something hurts, I tie the copper.

- And it passes?

- It depends. Passes, once alive. We are in the hole with the artist Purygin ( By the way, Duchin wrote a wonderful book about him. — Yu.R.) swam, and jogged along the boulevard from heart pain. Just give in to doctors.

- Let's still show your heart to Lado Meskhishvili.

- He can, he is familiar with Dusya. Only Lado works in Berlin. Will come - then. That's it, I went to Sovremennik. There, some hacks planted iron on nails. The hats are rusted, and in the rain the performing arts are in danger of flooding. And let Dusya walk. Sons-in-law will not transfer.

the 6th of May. Dusya skipped half the night, and now she is kemarit, burying her nose in a sweater. She found herself a young friend, our grey-striped locksmith cat. I don’t interfere with her communication with a friend, sometimes I even feed him. And then Dusya is full, and he is hungry.

We gave this cat the name of Zhora, in memory of the first childhood animal experience. “Bida meni with tsim Zhor,” said the hostess Marusya in a village on the Dnieper about my shabby peasant comrade, who stole fat from his neighbors in his spare time from catching mice. The urban Zhora, unlike the rural one, had a good article and a tortoiseshell color. He became Dusi's tender affection for life.

"May 10. We swept the area and watered the garden well. He is alive and well, but my dog ​​is very bad. His right hind leg joint was destroyed as a result of beatings inflicted on him by his former owner for a gnawed boot. By old age, everything had an effect. You can do an operation, but the surgeon himself said that this is unlikely to help.

Tonight the dogs caught the cat. She has 5 kittens at home. I am sitting and will continue to sit under the grape tent and wait for Dusya and Nastya (the icon painter).

About the tent later... Nastya helped Andreich restore the icons that he got by chance. He gave the valuable ones to the church, and distributed the simpler ones to kind people.

The artist Purygin, while staying in the House of Creativity, treated the stoker, and he, feeling deeply, gave him a large old board, on which he kneaded clay (on the back) for repairing stoves. This icon, with images of Sergius of Radonezh and Theodosius from Totma, was presented by Valentin Zakharovich to Dukhin for his fortieth birthday. Andreich cleared it away and read on the reverse side: “This icon was painted by order for the St. George Church in the village of Veskovo, Vladimir province. And be with her forever. January 1, 1847."

Ivan Andreevich, before setting off on a journey with a gift, wrote a letter in order to find out if St. George's Church was alive, and soon received a response from the rector, Father Andrei Kulakov:

“... Our church is small and quite neglected. Divine services in it were resumed only in 1990, and until now there was a manure warehouse ... Needless to say, how difficult it is for us ... You yourself know what time we live in ... And therefore I rejoice at every ruble, every small mite brought to the temple our poor fellow citizens. I am sure that this price is not small before God. I am very grateful to you for the fact that you had a desire to return the temple icon to our church. God sees. May this deed be counted for your benefit at the hour of the Lord's Judgment. We will pray for you."

They prayed for him in many churches, and in the Danilov Monastery, where he barely dragged a large pretty bell, and in his native Rovenka settlement, where he hung four bells bought with labor money on the bell tower, and in the church of Cosmas and Damian, which is in Stoleshnikov Lane ... On Maundy Thursday, we brought to the church a one and a half pound handsome bronze man of good casting and pure tone. Father Alexander Borisov said thank you, and Vanya blushed with embarrassment and quietly left. (Later it so happens that, while presenting Duchin with the “Ascetic” award, he recognizes in him a modest donor and is moved.) How many other gifts in his account, which I don’t know about, only God knows. A lot, I guess.

“Dusya is alive and well, often watching me leave. Dusya, the sovereign mistress of the Stable, runs up the stairs and the table.

He came in during the day, stroked Dusya so that she would not become wild. I drank some tea, climbed out onto the roof. The grill needs to be painted.

Dusya purrs. Eats well and feeds domestic kittens.”

“You are wild people,” said Olga Borisovna Barnet, having learned about the upcoming addition. - Go to Dr. Loginov at the Kuklachev Theater. Don't torture the animal.

Dr. Loginov, in his elegance and courtesy, looked like a foreign professor of gynecology, as I imagine it. On the walls hung portraits of four-legged patients, marked by extraordinary chic and unconditional cleanliness of the exterior. Next to them, not only our cheeky TV mutts, leading the twilight youth broadcast, but also the true elite individuals, which you can only meet on the red carpet in Cannes, seemed to be good (no more) representatives of the breed.

“Well, sir,” Loginov said, “what do you have?”

“Beauty,” I answered sincerely, “but mind!!!

- Bring it!

- Cut?

- For what? We will shave two square centimeters of wool, pierce with a tool (I am simplifying this so that you understand), and take it away in half an hour.

“And twelve shots?”

He looked at me reproachfully.

I went to the car and brought Dusya.

- Good, right?

"Charming cat," said the courteous doctor. - Go for a walk.

Andreich was waiting in the workshop. We put the sleeping Dusya on a terry towel, put a bowl of water on and cowardly left. The doctor said so.

It is an unpleasant experience to watch the animal recover from anesthesia.

When I returned home in the evening, Dusya sat on the table and washed her face. She removed the threads on the seams herself two weeks later. Gaiety of temper and love for walks has not lost. However, she became more choosy in affections and, of all the applicants for a paw and a heart, she left Zhora alone.

“Dusya, Zhora and I (ranked among the cats) are alive and well. The garden is blooming and fragrant. I don't see blueberries. Something scared them or they are sitting on the masonry, waiting for the kids.

Zhora believes that he is the main one, but he is mistaken, the main Dusya, and he is a real glutton and impudent. In the morning I escorted him out the door five times, and five times he returned through the window and climbed onto the catering unit.

Zhora gnaws on Kitiket, and Dusya looks at him with loving eyes.

Dusi had a conflict with a very beautiful bumblebee. As a result, she fled without looking back from the battlefield. Roofing work in the museum near Nikita Vysotsky is nearing completion.

I watered the garden."

Yes, Vanya and I started a garden in the center of Moscow, on Chistye Prudy. Well, of course, kindergarten, he's right. They opened the asphalt, dug a meter-long pit, four meters wide by eight and a half long. With the help of an excavator, and not without difficulties, they covered it with honestly paid fertile land.

“We (Dusya and I), thank God, are alive and well. On Monday we went to the boulevard for land. Tomorrow I will go to twelve. The drivers want to come to an honest agreement with their boss in Kerzhach, since we do not have a law on the sale of land to private hands, and they will come to see if the cars will pass through the courtyard arch. I drank tea, but the cockroaches overpower us, they even climb into the teapot (scoundrels). John and Dusya.

My friend, the wonderful botanist Seryozha Gerasimov, and two amazing Iras, Bandorina and Okuneva, who work in the Botanical Garden, brought Japanese apple trees, junipers, barberries and God knows what else, stuck it all into the ground, and it immediately began to grow. Wild grapes somehow briskly braided the walls, Andreich, whom both Iras fell in love with tenderly and mutually, pulled the ropes, and under the tent that had formed in the center of Moscow we frolicked on warm days and sometimes drank with Duchin (although he was a teetotaler) and friends who became common from the first meeting with Vanya.

“Tell Andrei Bitov, maybe it will be useful for him to work with what he found in the book of N.I. Ushakov "History of military operations in Asiatic Turkey in 1828 and 1829". SPb., 1836. T. 2, p. 305-306: “The shootout on June 14, 1829 is remarkable because our glorious poet A.S. took part in it. Pushkin. He arrived at our corps on the day of the performance at Saganlug and was treated kindly by the Count of Erivan. When the troops, having made a difficult transition, rested in the Inzhasu valley, the enemy suddenly attacked our advanced line ... The poet, for the first time hearing such close sounds of war around him, could not help but give in to a feeling of enthusiasm. In a poetic impulse, he immediately jumped out of headquarters, mounted a horse and instantly found himself at the outposts. The experienced Major Semichev, sent by General Raevsky after the poet, barely overtook him and forcibly led him out of the advanced line of Cossacks at the moment when Pushkin, animated by the courage so characteristic of a rookie warrior, seizing a pike near one of the killed Cossacks, rushed against the enemy riders. One can believe that the people of the Don were extremely astonished when they saw before them an unfamiliar hero in a round hat and a cloak. It was the first and last debut of the favorite of the muses in the Caucasus.”

Vanya on the roof of the Stables near the wind vane he made on the chimney. And a birdhouse for a "decent family"

“Dusya went on a hunger strike. Motives are unknown. Perhaps, in this way she protests against the adoption of the law on the protection of animals, something she does not like there. We, Ivan XV, are busy with the economy. It is necessary to turn the birdhouse to the east.

Zhora is a real womanizer, sleeping on the back of a white Volga in an embrace with a smoky Dasha. Maybe that's why Dusya is sad.

At 9:15 Zhora came to breakfast, purred with Dusya. She forgave him.

Due to the contentment of the earthly life, Dusya has zero (zero?) attention on me. We regard everyone as zeros, and ourselves as ones. Pushkin used to say "zeros", and in the evening school the math teacher used to say "zero". Where is the truth?

I repaired the watch, if it behaves badly, we will replace the mechanism. You are gone, and Dusya misses you very much.

It was raining this morning, and Dusya was waiting for me outside. Zhora is sleeping, in all likelihood, in the basement.

Dusya tidies up her appearance, and I, tired, will drink tea and reflect on the bustle of life. Nina Alekseevna's bell is intact. I'm thinking about riveting a pipe for our blubber samovar, but it's electric.

Dusya is good too! Has two more friends, red and gray.

Dusya and I painted the bars on the windows and the roof. Dusya slept on a warm iron and watched what I was doing, sometimes opening one eye.

This morning at 6:30 the pack of dogs reappeared. From the window I dispersed them with shouting and clapping my hands. They ran away.

Dusya completely strayed from home. Occasionally he looks in and immediately runs away.

They were united by something, of course, natural. He was free and she is free. Wife Lyuda and daughter Alena saw Ivan Andreevich only late in the evening (if he did not spend the night in the stable) or from their apartment in a two-story house, the windows of which overlooked our garden and workshop. He worked endlessly - he winged and repaired roofs, restored furniture and icons, studied the history of bells in the scientific halls of libraries, and wrote articles. He helped everyone and always with a joy that did not require an answer. He lived in love. Inside love. At the feast (we remember, he hardly drank at all - there was enough joy without it) Vanya was embarrassed when kind words were spoken to him. In the middle of the evening, always unexpectedly, he put on his cap and with the words "well, I went" disappeared.

Andreich and Dusi had their own relationship. Dusya met him on the street and galloped home so quickly that sometimes she bumped her head into the closed door. They lay together on the roof in warm sunny days, doing, according to Dukhin's definition, his favorite physical exercise - "bench press with two eyes." She missed him, but she did not allow anyone to be indulgent towards herself. The episode with which I began the story was the end of a six-day search for a runaway cat.

“Dusya was during the day, and now it’s 22:30, she’s gone, I’m going to look. Dusya did not come to spend the night, she went until three in the morning. Dispersed the dogs. Chatted with a security guard. He said he saw her in the afternoon on the wheel of a jeep.

I'm all sad. There is no soul. I'm wondering if someone took her away.

Everyone came out and it's sad to sit alone, no one knocks on the stairs with claws, but I hope for her return.

Dusya didn't come.

Morning. One. There is no hope for Dusi's return."

And in huge letters on a clean (!) Good piece of paper:

“After 6 days, I found Dusya in house 31. You can’t imagine what joys I experienced, and she screamed when I dragged her home by the scruff of the neck. Hooray!"

Vanya walked everywhere and, passing by garbage dumps, no, no, yes, and found something valuable. Either a working electrophone with 78 revolutions, or a box of records, or Korovin’s sketch, pasted over with an illustration from the old Ogonyok, or Viennese chairs from the pre-revolutionary factory Brothers Tonet.

“Yura, sit boldly on your chairs, don’t hang your head and don’t be ashamed, that’s not the point, we took them in the garbage in an honest fight. They are sanded, puttied and coated with Sohohne holz!”

The slop collection was a passing entertainment. His main passion was the study of arched bells. Once in the Pushkin Museum on Prechistenka, I arranged an exhibition "Pushkin is not at home." The photographs taken at night in the poet's apartment on the Moika were exhibited in total darkness. Visitors walked around with candles, every now and then came across three staggering racks, to which bells from the museum's collection were tied. Discordant ringing was an excellent acoustic background.

Museum director Evgeny Bogatyrev, speaking about the collection of vertebrae, complained that no one can determine what kind of pore they are.

- I will come with Ivan Andreevich Duhin, and he will determine in an hour.

He determined. Twelve bells, as it turned out, were contemporaries of Alexander Sergeevich.

“Pushkin could hear them,” Vanya said. - And he could be greeted by the bell. Stationmasters by ringing, it was easy to distinguish which service the crew belonged to: courier, guard, or smuggling.

“The bell is the same age as Pushkin,” Bogatyrev remarked. - Nathan Eidelman wrote that chimes were not "heard" in the 18th century.

- No, - said Ivan Andreevich, - this is a mistake. Klushin in the poem "My Departure in February 1773" writes: "I'm going - the voice of the vertebra / According to the heart it strikes, / It howls sadly, darkly, / The jets are like a stream." Not Pushkin's poetry, of course, but there is evidence. And Duchin smiled embarrassedly.

“After your departure, I sat and described the deeds of the arched bell, and Dusya lay on the written sheets. I went upstairs, and there my son-in-law of black color was sleeping on the bench. When he saw us, he immediately ran out the window.

The first snow fell, in the morning I worked on the roof of Nikita Vysotsky, and then they cleaned their roof with Dusya, but Dusya fled from the battlefield. I cry and drink tea.

In the evening he finished his many evening work on bells.

Freezing. Dusya sleeps for 18 hours, resting her paws on the battery. The nose does not stick out into the street.

Winter is not over yet. We, Ivan Andreevich and Dusya, worked to remove snow from the roof. I dared to pick up the phone, well, what pleasant female voices were. Everyone feels the approach of spring. I drank tea, and Dusya was naughty. I drove some kind of button under the table.

Spring came. Premonition dictated phone calls with pleasant female voices did not deceive Andreich. He beat the icicles, threw off the snow, patched the roofs and, having finished one book, took up another - about the artist Purygin. Dusya was basking in the sun. We pulled cables over the roof for our wild grapes.

April has come. Three weeks remained before the start of the lush white-pink flowering of Japanese apple trees. On April 8, I returned home from a business trip and did not find Dusi. There was a note on the table:

“The garden is being cleared of last year's foliage. That is our concern. As long as it's all right."

And next to it is an old envelope with the stamp of the Andrey Rublev Museum, on which Vanya's handwriting was written in uneven letters:

“Read!

Yura! Apparently, Dusi is not alive. Tonight, more precisely, at 1:05 am, I woke up from the screeching and barking of a pack of dogs. The pack attacked the cat. From my window I shouted, clapped my hands hard, but then there was a screech. Finally, a guard came out and stood watching. It was possible to beat her off, the cat was still alive, but he did not move, and they dragged her away. I called out to him if it was our cat. He replied that some young. I thought Dasha or Zhora, but in the morning they came. I began to search. No. Yearning. Sadness. We have lost Dusya.

The void has come. Andreich and I began to meet even more often, we talked, we drank tea, but the feeling of losing a loved one only deepened. Jora sat at the door for hours. He ate reluctantly and was absent from the stable for a short time.

In May, when the apple trees blossomed and Dusin's familiar bumblebees appeared, Zhora died. In the yard of the fish store. It was also torn apart by dogs.

After collecting the photographs, I went to the wonderful sculptor Georgy Frangulyan, who also knew Dusya. Zhora fashioned it life-size and gave it to us. She looked incredibly like herself. Andreich put the bronze Dusya on a beam, from where she, alive, usually watched life.

Whether I left or didn't leave, Andreich came to the Stable every day. We had such a need with him.

"The only thing Living being, brightening up loneliness, this is a spider that sometimes appears in the bathroom. The weather is good, +7. All is well in the stable. 03.22. John XV.

Three years after Dusina's death, on April 8, Ivan Andreevich Duhin worked on the roof of his house, and his heart broke.

Vanya and Dusya, my dear friends, died in the same place and on the same day.

There was a spider Mitya (or Motya), a kindergarten and love.

Bronze Dusya sits on a beam. Behind her, in the window, is a grape tent, above which on the wall is a blue sign with white letters “Duhin Garden”, a gift from Dima Muratov. And an angel over her. Now we have this address.

Both books by Ivan Andreevich have been published. White and black Irochka planted another apple tree in Andreevich's honor. It will bloom in spring.

The bird Shurik flies around the Stable. Dusya would be very interested in him, and Vanya would be pleased with the song.

All my friends are with me (what happiness!). Some people are just silent.

Find out who was on the papal throne at that time.

Checking our knowledge

1. What are the reasons for the formation of the Principality of Lithuania?

The state was created to resist the crusaders and the possible raids of the Horde.

2. Using the text of the paragraph and the map, make up a story about the growth of the territory of the Lithuanian state.

Taking advantage of the fact that Rus' was weakened by the Mongol-Tatar invasion, Mindovg began to subjugate the nearby Western Russian lands: Grodno, Pinsk, etc. Under Gedymin, his brother ruled the throne of Polotsk. The eldest son of Gedimin Olgerd, married to the daughter of the Vitebsk prince, after the death of his father-in-law, inherited his inheritance. The Minsk and then the Brest principalities submitted to Gediminas. In the late 20s - early 30s of the XIV century, the Kiev principality recognized the authority of Gediminas.

The establishment of the power of the Lithuanian princes took place relatively peacefully, since the conditions for joining the Russian lands to the Lithuanian state satisfied both the boyars, the townspeople, and even the church.

Under Olgerd, the Bryansk, Podolsk, Seversk and Chernihiv Russian lands, as well as Volyn, were annexed to the Lithuanian state.

3. What was the main feature of the Lithuanian state?

The state of Gediminas reminded Rus' of the times of the first Russian princes. The Lithuanian prince did not pursue the goal of establishing strict control over the annexed lands. They retained their customs and traditions, the former order of government. Gediminas replaced only the rulers, placing his relatives on local thrones.

4. Tell about political structure of the State of Lithuania and the religious policy of its first princes.

The governor-princes collected and paid tribute to the Grand Duke of Lithuania. She was not very big. The Russian population considered it as a payment to the Lithuanian prince for protection from foreign attacks and maintaining calm throughout the vast state.

Gediminas, remaining a pagan, did not infringe on the right Orthodox Church. At the same time, he established contacts with the Catholic Church. In his letters to the Pope, Gediminas accused the knights of averting Lithuanians from Christianity with cruel raids. He even promised the pope to baptize Lithuania according to the Western rite if the Crusaders' invasions stopped. But the plans for the introduction of Catholicism were opposed by both the pagan Lithuanian nobility and the Russian Orthodox population, whose position Gediminas could not ignore. He understood perfectly well that the vast Slavic lands were the source of the power of his state.

5. What was the significance of the annexation of Russian lands to the Grand Duchy of Lithuania?

The Russian principalities were not subjected to the same extent as the rest of Rus', by the destructive Horde raids. The joint efforts of the Russian and Lithuanian people managed to resist the threat from both the east and the west. The higher culture of the Russian lands, rich state experience had a positive impact on Lithuanian culture and statehood.

The Lithuanian people sought to cooperate with the population of the Russian lands annexed to Lithuania. Russian language was state language Grand Duchy of Lithuania.

6. Using the material of the paragraph, describe the nature of the relationship between Russian and Lithuanian princes.

During this period, good relations developed between the Lithuanian and Russian princes. Dynastic marriages were concluded, as a result of which the Russian lands were part of the Lithuanian state. Despite this, the Lithuanian princes listened to the opinion of the Russian population in solving some important state issues.

Learning to be historians

2. Prepare short story on the topic “1340. One day in the city of Vilna” (no more than 100 words).

At the entrance to the city, the guests were greeted by the gates of Aushras. Inside Vilna, life was in full swing. Here one could meet representatives of different religions, and everyone could calmly perform their rituals. The city is filled with life. And paints. No other city has such diversity. There are many artisans and merchants with overseas goods here.

An important role in the life of the city was played by the Russian quarter, populated by Orthodox artisans and merchants. The most interesting was the main market. Getting on it, you feel like a hero of a fairy tale.

Current page: 1 (total book has 4 pages)

Height
Story
emperors

© imperators, 2017

ISBN 978-5-4485-9993-4

Created with the intelligent publishing system Ridero

Introduction

The story of being reborn into a plant. Main character used to be a man, but now he's a seed of a plant. Who was he before and who is he now? All this he learns in the course of time.

The main character will be haunted by failures and successes. Nature will make him fight for his life. Will he fight nature itself, or will he grow his own forest to dictate his living conditions for many living beings? We will see all this in this fantasy story.

Genres of the work:

Fantasy, science fiction, supernatural.

At the end of the story there is a list, a description of the characters and troops that appear in this story. You will also find a map of the world there.

Arc 1. Development

Chapter 1
Are you an eternal tree?

It was a normal day for Yesenia. But there was something new, she felt a curious radiation emanating from somewhere in the depths of her native forest. She had never been in that part of the forest where something strange came from.

It was magic. The radiation spread in waves, and the more time passed, the more often the waves beat, spreading farther and farther. These waves reached the attention of the forest dweller. Such a magical indignation was felt by the girl, and this is what attracted the attention of Yesenia.

That forest, from where new magic blew, was very young, and there was no need for Yesenia to go there. After all, for this there is another clan that is engaged in exploration and protection of the forest. Yesenia was from a village, namely from a village of healers and herbalists.

For this beautiful and young-looking girl, the "Eternal Forest" was native. She was born in these places, because Yesenia was an elf. The Wood Elf lived in a village high above the ground within the mighty trunks of ancient trees. Around the tree trunks there were special bridges along which the inhabitants moved. Similarly, hanging bridges went from one tree to another, from one dwelling to the next. To descend to the ground, the elves climbed down the rope ladder, in the same way the elves climbed back. Stairs and bridges were built from wood or plants. All this seemed to the uninformed bystanders to be a completely natural phenomenon in the forest.

The forest supported a tropical climate. Although the crowns of tall trees completely blocked the view of the sky, it was not dark. Anyway, it was pretty light. Something illuminated the surrounding space, something glowed with green or white pleasant colors. Insects crawling on the bark of trees shone somewhere, lamps were still glowing near the dwellings of the elves, illuminating the houses, both outside and inside. Somewhere herbs flickered brightly, and flowers could burn with peculiar colors.

In general, in this warm forest it was cozy and light all day and night. And no cataclysms disturbed the Eternal Forest. Here it was simply impossible.

It was calm. The melodies of various birds sounded. The leaves of the trees rustled, blown from above by a light breeze. The annoying grasshoppers chirped.

The Eternal Forest was named so for a reason. This forest was very ancient. The trees that grew in the central region of the Eternal Forest reached hundreds of meters in height. On the branches of such giants, one could safely build dwellings. It was on the same trees that there was one of the villages of the forest elves, in which Yesenia lived a quiet life, doing herbalism.

Precisely because Yesenia was an elf, she felt a magical indignation, which was still poorly read. The wood elf went in search of the necessary herbs at a distance from her village, however, as always. It was then that she felt something extraneous, but at the same time something very familiar and dear. At first, she did not attach any importance to this, because the radiation was weak and distant. But after some time, she moved away from her village and already more strongly felt something strong and powerful on the outskirts of the forest.

Yesenia became interested in what it could be. What got her attention? What suddenly became strong in such a short time? Is it dangerous? No, it seemed to her that because of the unknown does not breathe danger.

The elf was dressed in light clothes resembling plant leaves. These clothes were not just for convenience, but also served as a disguise in the forest. Leather shoes made it possible to walk through the forest without fear of injury, thanks to these shoes, Yesenia stepped completely silently on grass and moss.

She had already walked several kilometers through untrodden places. She passed through high thickets, through dense and not very forests, without slowing down, but she never reached the point that attracted her. She had the feeling that someone was calling her or leading her. And this feeling grew and became stronger. The feeling of something unusual only grew, which means that Yesenia was closer to the goal than before.

The magical radiation intensified and she began to worry about what or who was causing it.

The long ears of the elf twitched when they heard some rustling in the grass nearby. She stopped and listened to the soft noise. A wild boar grunted in the grass, digging the ground with its nose. He was obviously looking for something for breakfast.

The wood elves were accustomed to animals, they did not disturb them, just as the animals did not show aggression towards the elves, the animals were not afraid of the forest dwellers. This was quite common.

A very large boar stopped doing his job and glared in the direction of the elf. Yesenia was not afraid that the boar noticed her, because she was sure that he would not touch her. She was taken aback by the look of the animal. The look was completely empty, as if the boar did not care about anything. But then why is he looking directly at Yesenia?

There was something strange about that look. Something that inspired certain thoughts. This look of the animal was not easy. The boar was controlled by someone, but the elf threw such impossible ideas out of her head.

A moment later, the brown pig returned to its dirty work. Yesenia was worried, but she continued on her way towards a younger forest, not thinking about what she saw for too long.

Something attracted the elf, and it was something in the direction of the younger forest. There the trees were much smaller, and from this the area was lighter, but it was also colder in that direction. In the dense and high forest it was quite warm and cozy, it was possible to put on practically nothing. It was cooler in the relatively young forest, and yellowish rays of the sun shone through the foliage of the trees, and they warmed at times when they fell on the walking elf.

Yesenia met various forest dwellers. The birds stopped their singing and began to follow the walking girl, who was walking on soft moss. Squirrels frolicking, ran after the uninvited guest, but did not come close to her. The elf noticed surveillance even from insects. It would seem, why should small bugs and colorful beautiful butterflies pay attention to one of the daughters of the forest. Apparently for some reason it was necessary, but not for them.

Still walking, the girl began to realize that from time to time someone controls the beasts. Animals danced to someone else's tune, but at the same time they were doing things familiar to them. Mind control was taken only temporarily. This someone was clearly from the place where Yesenia was heading. Maybe this someone was also curious, and he did not interfere with the progress of the elf.

A terrible thought crossed her mind and she stopped abruptly. Leaning against the trunk of a tree, she thought. What if this someone is able to control more than just animals? But then...why didn't this stranger subdue her? Maybe he is not hostile and only defends himself?

Yesenia turned around and took a few steps back.

If someone is able to subdue the minds of animals, then they can certainly subdue her, but so far this has not happened. Why? Why would she even go there? Maybe it's better to let others do it? I should have told the rest of the villagers about what I felt right away, and not come here alone.

There are a lot of questions that Yesenia wanted to find answers to.

The expression on the wood elf's face became more determined, and she moved in the direction she had originally intended to go. She was sure that while that magical radiation was not evil, she did not feel any hostility towards her. Yesenia was sure that nothing bad would happen to her.

Behind a few birches, she felt new feelings. Yesenia became warm. There was warmth, calmness and all fear simply disappeared. The girl remained curiosity, and even greater interest in what lay ahead of her caught fire in her.

What will she find and who will she meet? This question has been bugging her mind all this time.

The air became fresher and more saturated, the air seemed to caress the delicate skin of the elf. Whether the environment was filled with some kind of power or whether it was something else, Yesenia did not know. For her, these feelings were new. But the fact that in this place the air was filled with magical power, she clearly felt it when she walked even further.

The elf did not understand what could have affected the forest in such a way. Literally every tree, every bush, every blade of grass from below was oversaturated with some kind of force, an unknown and powerful force.

Passing through the branches of the trees, Yesenia froze in a clearing with wonderful flowers of all colors of the rainbow. Lights were flying over the flowers, like some kind of fireflies. The lights glowed yellow, red, blue flowers. They either sat on the flower petals or circled over them.

– Ah! What are these fairies? Yesenia was surprised, gasping loudly.

Fairies simply cannot exist or live in an ordinary forest. For them, a magical connection with the place where they live is very important.

The elf admired the bright lights and flowers in the clearing for some time. Peace and joy from what is happening around her climbed inside her.

But suddenly the birds fell silent, and the lights landed on the clearing and everything around seemed to freeze.

- Who are you? A voice sounded inside the girl's head.

Yesenia jumped in surprise and widened her eyes. Looking around, she saw no one. Looking around anxiously, the elf heard the same voice again.

- Who are you? If you want to cause harm, then leave, otherwise you will stay here forever, - a male voice calmly told the elf.

“I-I'm from the village of Eiterni. I just ... became interested in what was happening in this part of the forest, - Yesenia fussily explained to the void and, standing on soft moss, tensed her whole body, - so I went to check what kind of magical disturbances I felt. I... I'm just curious.

The elf turned her attention to the thick trunk of a tree in the center of the clearing. Looking at the tree, she realized that this oak tree was very large in relation to the surrounding trees or bushes. The wide oak trunk and thick branches were striving upward, covering a large space around the old tree with their shadow falling from its mighty crowns.

A deer came out from behind a wide trunk of an oak tree. Its branched horns looked majestic, and they glowed with a yellowish light. The eyes of the deer looked attentively, we can say that strictly. Flickering eyes peered at the girl, frozen from what she saw, who stood in a daze.

“Y-Are you guarding this tree?” Yesenia asked, turning to the deer, overcoming her fear.

The deer's mouth and lips did not move. This deer with graceful legs stood by the oak and directly mentally broadcast what he wanted to communicate directly to the head of the interlocutor.

Yesenia thought about whether a deer could be powerful enough to be able to read her thoughts.

- Oh! And this case is not an eternal tree? - Yesenia shouted, still surprised at what she sees - I heard about such a tree from our fairy tales and myths. My mother used to tell me about this as a child. The fact that there is a tree in the world that was the first and from which our world began to grow ... and thanks to this tree, we, the elves, appeared. Hah ... I talked something, I'm sorry I'm such a talker. When I get into something, I just can't be stopped.

“Don’t worry, I enjoy our conversation,” Yesenia heard a man’s speech, it seemed that her voice became kinder, “but this is the first time I meet such an ill-mannered elf. Look down. Look at where your feet are.

“Ha ha… how many elves have you met?”

At the question of the elf, the deer turned its head, looking at the waiting fairies, who sat on the petals of multi-colored flowers.

Yesenia bowed her head in bewilderment and saw how she stepped on flowers in a flowery clearing. The girl jumped back and apologized, explaining that she didn’t do it on purpose. The deer snorted and thumped the grass with his hoof, but he did not look angry or angry, but rather understanding and kind. Or maybe he just smiled?

Yesenia carefully approached the oak, avoiding the flowers so as not to crush them. As she touched the mighty tree, she felt the magical power flowing within that old oak tree. The body of the elf felt warm, and she began to understand that this tree had good intentions, it had no evil motives.

The tree, in turn, felt goodwill from the elf, which calmed down and, at its whim, life, which had previously frozen around, spun again. The clearing where the big oak tree grew was healed again. Fairies flew, illuminating the flowers, the crowns of the trees stirred, and the slowly falling leaves danced in the light breeze.

The curious elf and the keeper, sitting next to the tree, talked for a long time and with interest. Yesenia, pressing her hands to her chest, smiled every now and then and rejoiced at such a horned interlocutor and the fact that she had found an eternal tree.

– Hee hee! Can I visit here every day? - Yesenia asked, looking with her emerald eyes with hope at the deer lying nearby.

- Of course, come. I'll be waiting, - calmly answered her interlocutor.

The girl stroked the muzzle of the deer, which, as it seemed to her, made the deer embarrassed. Touching the horns, she withdrew her hand and smiled radiantly. Then the elf got up and ran back to her village.

- Ahaha! I'll have to tell everyone what I saw today, and the people of Eiterni will be delighted! - There was a joyful voice of Yesenia, moving away from the tall oak.

The young elf thought about how such a majestic tree had not been noticed by the elves until now? Maybe it's young? No, no… such a big tree is at least hundreds of years old, if not a thousand…

Chapter 2
I am Rusty

It was very dark...

Dark? How should I know? I don't see anything. See? Hm…

Who am I? And… where am I anyway?

I seem to have some memories. Memories? What is this?

Memories… memory of what I used to do or… live. I lived?

What are these strange faces in my memory? I don't remember who they are. I forgot those whom I used to know well. The faces of people are blurred, and I no longer recognize them. I... I feel like my memories are fading and disappearing, but there's nothing I can do about it...

What do I care about this?

Come to think of it... I don't care anymore. I'm more concerned with where I am now. And… who am I at the moment?

I feel something ... I feel that I feel cramped. My body is pressing on something. Something presses on my body, but does not crush. I feel cramped and unable to move, but it doesn't hurt. I'm rather uncomfortable.

I also feel warm and comfortable.

So who am I? How can I be aware of myself? I don’t know who I am at the moment and what I’m doing or doing in general ... I don’t know, but ... I can feel. I can sense my surroundings, but I can't move to see where I am...I can't. I'm just lying under some kind of rough weight and unable to just move.

Am I unable to move because I am unable to move or because I am pinned down? Do I need to move? I feel so good... no... I want to know what I'm doing here.

This does not give me rest.

I can't smell, I can't see or hear anything. How do I know what it is? How do I know about these feelings? Where…

I know a lot more, but I can't think about it for too long. I am unable to focus on one thing.

Something… something is changing for me. I get wet, moisture covers my body. It gets very wet.

I'm drowning now!

But no ... you can calm down, I'm not able to breathe. But then how can I... how can I live?

Breathe? Air? I do not know what is this. Once... perhaps I knew, but now I have forgotten everything. Just for a moment I remember something and then I forget about it. I can't... I can't concentrate on anything.

The moisture made it cooler and I'm still wet. I... I feel like I can... I can do something. My body is capable of more.

I'm surrounded by heat and...

…my body is transforming, growing.

I can grow!

Thanks to the accumulated heat and water surrounding me, I will be able to move. I feel that warmth and moisture gives me strength. What do I need these powers for? Where can I use this power? What to spend them on?

What's the difference! Just be it or not be too boring. Boredom? What is this? I'm boring? No, the environment is boring.

Hah… I don't like doing nothing. I want to do something. Want? I want this? Yes... I think I want to.

I can… I feel like I can do something with myself. I can transform. So I…

Therefore, I will look for options to dispel my boredom. After all, I can. Therefore, I do...

A clear day with kind and warm rays of the sun was disappearing. The bright sky turned gray, and then completely darkened. The sky darkened and dark clouds rolled in. The clouds that had gathered in the sky grew darker and darker, and now ... they broke through - it began to rain.

At first there was a light rain, and drops of moisture faintly tickled the plants on the ground. But then a downpour came, noisily washing the trees and the ground. Spray drops, as if playing an incomprehensible melody, hit the ground, grass, foliage of trees, creating noise and irrigating the warm soil, warmed by the sun's rays. The rain cooled the ground and because of this, a light fog appeared, which covered the low grass.

When the rain stopped dripping, warm rays covered the forest again and the forest dwellers woke up. Birds sang their serenades, wolves howled, and the noise of motley foliage on the swaying branches of birches, maples, oaks became audible.

Down on the ground, where the clearing had not yet been captured by tall branched trees, a plant appeared. It was brand new and amazing. Such a plant was nowhere to be found.

Squeezing through the wet ground, the sprout revealed itself to the light. The slender stalk rose higher and higher until it dominated the surrounding grass.

A part of his body separated from the stem of a newborn plant, scrolling around its axis. The green leaf separated from the stem turned to the daylight in order to absorb solar energy, in order to feel warmth, in order to feel life.

After all, thanks to the received solar heat collected inside the plant, the processes on which the existence of the entire sprout depends will actively take place. The future growth of this plant will depend on the sun bath.

The stem with the leaf continued to accumulate energy within itself. After some time, the stem of the plant became thicker and stronger, and then another leaf appeared, followed by another one. The more leaves, the easier and more it will be possible to collect solar heat.

Thus, a new hitherto unseen plant has three long leaves, arranged in different directions.

This blade of grass has absorbed a sufficient amount of heat. The young plant provided itself with energy to decide how to grow further and what to do in general ...

Rusty is my name.

I forgot my old name and gave myself a new one. After all, without a name I am nobody, but with a name I am already someone who is able to realize himself, who is able to move on.

I am me... I am Rusty.

When the stem of the plant grew, leaves appeared from my body, that is, from the seed. For me, new sensations, new feelings and abilities appeared.

The leaves allowed me to breathe and draw energy from the heat. Collected air and energy from sun rays kept in a thin stem. Water also came there, collected from under the ground by small roots.

Already from energy, air and water, a nutrient mixture was created that allowed me to continue to live and create.

I could create amazing things.

With the nutrient mixture, I was able to create anything. I could control the growth of the plant itself and the leaves, as well as dig further and further into the ground with my roots.

With my roots, I was looking for new sources of water, but not only. These same roots held the long stem to keep it from falling. The roots have become one of the most important parts of the body for me. And most of the nutrient mixture went into creating longer and stronger roots.

Roots is a whole highly sensitive nervous system. Small shoots on the roots made it possible to collect moisture. The roots themselves helped transport the liquid.

I could also create some nodes or vaults underground. The nodes could store water along with nutrients found by the roots, and air collected from the outside by the leaves of the plant with energy.

And that is not all.

Realizing myself as a creator, I created information banks in the depths of the earth. I am able to create repositories in which you can store information about everything. The knowledge I have accumulated about the area, the knowledge environment, understanding when it will be day and when it will be night. All my experience, collected during my life, could be stored in these vaults.

The accumulated knowledge had to be stored somewhere, otherwise I would forget everything that I still knew a few minutes ago or hours ago, or maybe days.

The more of these banks of information that my roots control, the smarter I will become and be more aware of myself in this world. Also, I will be able to learn more about the world from my past. And I would really like to get back my memories that I lost. They could be very helpful.

Now I was able to be aware of myself and at the same time gain accumulated knowledge. I could even produce more nutrient mixture for further growth ...

When I accumulated about ten pieces of information banks underground, I began to realize that I was not always a plant. Yes, I already understood that I am a plant. So I went further. I began to remember the once forgotten ... forgotten life. I thought it was mine past life. I used to be someone else, but recently I somehow became a seed that grew into a plant.

What does "was" mean? What does it mean to have been before in a past life?

Before that, it seems to me, I was a completely different being, not a plant. Did something happen and I died or didn't I die?

I know for sure that I have been reborn. Transformed into a plant. Now I'll have to live with it.

I need to learn more about this local fauna, and indeed ...

Learn about everything to better navigate and…

…to survive. It's just plain surviving. If I can provide myself with everything necessary, then it will be possible to think about something else.

I somehow got carried away with plant life. Maybe I'm interested? Maybe I like it? Maybe I just have no other choice? That's right, I got carried away with my new life. And I'm not boring. I'm very cheerful too.

Fun ... I wish I could remember what it is.

Am I happy with who I've become? Who am I?

I don't know. I can't feel or be aware of emotions.

Because I am Rusty!