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P.S. полковник Мельник
"Тарас Бульба", М. Гоголь, 1835р.
it was a gloomy autumn night. He has just started to meticulously pull the strings of his run-down guitar, playing his favourite impeccable genre, titled "sovkohitara". But his perseverance didn't matter, since there was no rhythm, no harmony, no anything required to replicate such a lovely tune. He was "playing" it and wondering, who shall he talk ♥♥♥♥ about the next day. That is, if he could wake up tomorrow at all, since it was 03:24 on the clock already.