Death tears


Grandma sighed and said: “Yes, he is the son of God.” Every word, every thing, every expression, every movement of people attracted me deeply, and a sweet feeling of sadness filled my heart. Joy and sorrow are always interdependent, and they are inextricably intertwined. Uncle Yakov was probably not particularly drunk. He tore his shirt and pulled his hair and light Hu Shun: “What kind of day is this? Why do you live like this?” He beat his chest and stamped his feet, tears streaming down his face: “I’m a scoundrel, a scoundrel, a lost dog!” Gregory suddenly roared: “Yes, you are!” Grandma was drunk, too, and took her son’s hand: “Come on, Yasha, God knows what kind of person you are!” Grandma looks very beautiful now, with a pair of smiling black eyes and warm love to everyone. She fanned her red face with her headscarf and said, as if singing and complaining: Lord, Lord,rotary vacuum disc filters, everything is so beautiful! It’s so beautiful! This is her sigh from the bottom of her heart. I was surprised by the performance of the carefree Uncle Yakov. My grandmother, why is he crying? And beat yourself and scold yourself? You don’t want to know everything in the world now! Sooner or later, you’ll understand. Uncharacteristically, Grandma didn’t answer me. This makes my curiosity even more unsatisfied. When I went to the dyehouse to ask Ivan, he always laughed and did not answer, but looked askance at Gregory. At last he was in a hurry and pushed me out: “Get out!”! If you pester me again, I’ll throw you into the dye pot and give you a color! Gregory was standing in front of the stove,Wall Penstocks, which was wide and low, with three big pots on it. He stirred the pot with a long wooden stick, and kept taking out the stick to look at the dye field dripping down the head of the stick. The fire burned so fiercely that the hem of his colorful leather apron reflected the light of the fire. The water gurgled in the pot, the steam misted toward the door, and a cloud rose from the yard. He raised his bloodshot eyes, looked at me under his glasses, and said gruffly to Ivan: “Hurry up and get the firewood. What’s with the eyes?” Zigan is out. Gregory sat down on the pocket of paint and beckoned me over: “Come!” He took me on his knee, and the beard covered half of my face: Your uncle made a fool of himself and beat his wife to death! Now, he’s got his own conscience on him, okay? “Be careful. You want to know everything. It’s very dangerous!” With Gregory, I felt very natural, just like with Grandma. The difference was that he always scared me a little, especially when he looked at people under his glasses, Belt Filter Press ,rapid sand filters, as if his eyes could penetrate everything. So, how did you fight? “When they were sleeping at night, he wrapped her head and feet in a quilt and beat her to death.” Why do you want to fight? He can’t say it himself, can he? Ivan came back with firewood in his arms and squatted in front of the stove to warm his hands. Gregory didn’t care and went on: “Maybe because she’s better than him and he’s jealous of her!” “They don’t like good people in this family, and they can’t tolerate good people!” “Ask your grandmother, and you will know how they tried to kill your father!”! Your grandmother will tell you anything. She doesn’t lie. Although she likes to drink and smell snuff, she is a saint. “She’s still a little silly. You have to stay close to her!” With that, he gave me a push and I was in the yard. My heart is very heavy. Fanyushiga caught up with me, took my head in his hands, and whispered: “Don’t be afraid of him, he’s a good man!” “Look him straight in the eye from now on. He likes that!” All of this is disturbing. I remember my parents didn’t live like this. They do everything together, snuggling side by side. At night, they often talked and laughed for a long time, sitting by the window and singing loudly, so that all the people in the street came to watch.
The faces looking up remind me of the dirty dishes after dinner. But here people rarely smile, occasionally someone smiles, you do not know what he is smiling. Noisy, threatening, whispering is the way of speaking here. None of the children dare to play loudly. They are ignored and neglected, and they are as insignificant as dust. I feel like an outsider here, and I always feel on pins and needles. I watched everything happen and develop intently. Grandma is busy all day, and most of the time she doesn’t care about me. So I followed Zigan’s ass, and our friendship deepened. Every time my grandfather hit me, he would block it with his arm, and then show me the swollen place: “Oh, it’s no use!”! You are still beaten so much, and I am not beaten lighter than you, forget it, I do not care later! But next time, as usual, he will take care of it. Don’t you care? “Oh, who knows when the time comes, my hand will reach out again unconsciously.” Later, I learned a secret about him, which added to my interest in him. Every Friday, Tzigan would put the purplish red masalapu on the sled and go to the market. Sharapo is grandma’s baby. He has a bad temper and eats good food. Zigan put on a fur coat up to his knees, a big hat, and a green belt, and set off. Sometimes, he doesn’t come back very late. The family members were so anxious that they ran to the window, melted the ice flowers on the window glass with steam, and looked out. Not back yet? “No!” Grandma is more anxious than anyone else. She said to her uncle and grandfather: “Now you’ve ruined both the man and the horse!” "Shameless thing,Rotating sludge scraper, stupid pig!“! God will punish you! Grandpa muttered: All right, all right! Finally, Tzigan is back!. ”">



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