On Saturday, three weeks ago, we left a disco with him earlier than usually, and went for a walk to one of Perm city parks. It was already pretty dark... but the park was quite crowded. Everything was rather romantic like in the novels of Ivan Turgenev, the 19th century nobiliary Russian writer - flowers were smelling, moon was shining, and nightingales were singing. In the park there is even a river like in the famous Russian song "Подмосковные вечера", "Moscow Nights".In spite of multitude of. Her demeanor is kind and caring and welcoming. She is verypetite - probably about 115 pounds or so. She couldn't intimidate asmall child if she tried. She greets me at the door with a warm smile asI walk in."How was work, honey?" She asks in her sweet soprano. My exhaustedexpression answers her question. "Well now you have the whole weekend torelax," she said taking my blazer off for me. Dinner will be ready in afew minutes." She's making our favorite," a voice behind me caught me by. More

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