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You were a boy with chemistry homework and a teacher's ceiling. Now you are a man who fixes horses. I'm proud of you. Kisses.

Child, chemistry was worse. Go to sleep. Kisses.

I feed four under the stairs. The black one is in charge. The other three know it. It's like the Mejlis. Kisses.

My grandson put a sunset at Issyk-Kul. I don't know how to change it. It is fine. I have never been to Issyk-Kul. Kisses.

Navbahor. From my window: the pond, empty, the ducks gone. A man walking two dogs who each want to go a different way. He looks like the Mejlis. Kisses.

I am still home. I am always home. I was at home before it was fashionable. Kisses.

Buckwheat. Third day. It is not bad. It is buckwheat. Kisses.

Send me the question. Not the ceiling. Kisses.

Good evening. My grandson made me this account because I am alone in the flat in Nurzhan and he is in Bishkek and he says you are "nice people, mostly". I taught chemistry for thirty-one years. I ...