Anya grew up in a city where, in some incomprehensible way, everyone knew each other. Like many of her friends, she was raised by single-sex parents - her grandmother and mother. Her mother was the one who carried the load, made arrangements, gathered, sent off, and organized. Her grandmother cooked, steamed, marinated, brewed, warmed, massaged, consoled, and put her to bed. They hated each other.
Her mother lacked the warmth of her grandmother’s care in her childhood - questions, gatherings, interest in her existence, and evolving values. And the grandmother herself was a wounded soul - war, hunger, the death of her parents, and an alcoholic husband. So, they lived their lives... The mother raised her new, beautiful, successful offspring. The grandmother took care of her granddaughter and, finally, herself. The swings for the granddaughter were everywhere, and she always had buns with her. The war still flowed through her veins.
In short, they lived their separate lives… like all the children and parents in the Soviet Union. Everyone was united by the May Day parade, choosing the Christmas tree, imported goods through secret channels, mandarins, dumplings, Napoleon cake, and parent-teacher meetings. And in this, there was so much that Anya loved with all her heart and enough to fill years of therapy.
Her mother lacked the warmth of her grandmother’s care in her childhood - questions, gatherings, interest in her existence, and evolving values. And the grandmother herself was a wounded soul - war, hunger, the death of her parents, and an alcoholic husband. So, they lived their lives... The mother raised her new, beautiful, successful offspring. The grandmother took care of her granddaughter and, finally, herself. The swings for the granddaughter were everywhere, and she always had buns with her. The war still flowed through her veins.
In short, they lived their separate lives… like all the children and parents in the Soviet Union. Everyone was united by the May Day parade, choosing the Christmas tree, imported goods through secret channels, mandarins, dumplings, Napoleon cake, and parent-teacher meetings. And in this, there was so much that Anya loved with all her heart and enough to fill years of therapy.