They often ask: what do I want?
I don’t know what to answer them. . .
We realize that we are talking about the most important thing. . .
I can’t find the right word. . . this is not a dream. . . not a wish. . .
It’s just something you can see with your eyes closed. . . the way it should be. . . if everything is correct. . .
A table. . . a boy was leaning over the table. . . blond hair. . .
A father wanted a son and a daughter. . . However, he thought more often about a son. . . what he will be like. . .
Not my parent. . . The boy’s father. . . Do you know who I’m talking about?
I see it through Father’s eyes again. . . He looks at his son. . . The mother stands behind his shoulder and looks as well. . .
I know, feel love in their eyes. . .
Their son is about five years old. . . His hair has fallen over his forehead and covers his face. . . he leaned over the table. . . does something. . . I don’t know what he does. . .
All I know is that they are proud of him and love him very much. . . unborn. . .
They didn’t really have him. . .
It was just Father’s thoughts about his son. . . How he was supposed to grow up. . .
And how were not allowed to grow. . . He was killed before he was born.
Perhaps this is my desire – to watch my son grows up, to be proud of his success. . . what I was able to teach him, . . . what he made himself. . . what I didn’t teach him, what he made up. . .
I want him to always feel something that I have never had. . . father’s interest in what you do. . . because it was so easy to show how it should be. . . until the childhood dream was extinguished. . . so that he could do more than you did at his age. . .
It’s a special feeling, the confidence that everything will work out. . . because he sees and supports you. . . Even when he’s gone. . . do you know what I mean?
So here I am, . . . wanted to experience this feeling. . . that He looks and smiles. . .
I don’t see it. . . I just know he’s watching. . . And smiles. . .
I would also like to look at my son like this. . .
To know that I can. . . Give him. . . teach him. . .
They tried to teach me something, too. . . I wasn’t interested. . . they didn’t ask me what I wanted, what I dreamed about. . .
It was before the radio club. . . so, the third grade of school. . .
My father brought a jigsaw and files to it. . . not to me, but so. . . you can use it. . .
I don’t think he bought a jigsaw. . . He stole it from work. . . he was in charge of the workshops at the technical school. . .
With a jigsaw I had to cut out various crafts. . . according to the drawings from the book. . . But these are different things, just show how to get started and explain. . . when it doesn’t work. . . To be close and together. . . then everything will work out. . . Always. . .
I still remember these stupid shelves, a gift for my mother, . . . he wanted it.
I didn’t have enough patience to cut the box with patterns – the files kept breaking, I messed up a lot.
I’ve always been attracted to radio parts. . . especially from military equipment – they’re so beautiful. . . I dreamed of making such a special radio receiver to. . .
In the fourth grade I started going to the radio club of the Palace of Pioneers and this became the main thing.
They were taken there starting from the fifth grade, but the head made an exception. . .
When I made my first detector radio, I brought it home to show it. . .
I probably wanted to be praised. . .
None of this happened. . . That’s what I’m thinking now. . .
If it had been different, I would have remembered.
They never enjoyed my success. . .
Now I know it’s bizarre. . . I couldn’t have known back then.
I probably only waited for this involvement once. . .
It didn’t work out that time. . .
I wanted to make one part for the receiver. . . I sawed it out of plexiglass, and when I started drilling, the edge always broke off on the hole. . .
I cut it out again. . . and everything was repeated. . . while the whole piece of plexiglass is not messed up. . .
And it was so easy to say that first you need to drill and then cut the edge. . .
In the evening, my parents scolded me for the spoiled stool on which I was drilling. . .
They probably thought that I was doing this to spite them. . . badly.
I didn’t feel guilty. . . it was just like they were strangers. . .
They’re on their own, I’m on my own. . .
My father was always unhappy about something. . . by me, too.
When I asked for something, they bought it . . . sometimes. . . But reluctantly. . .
He never came to find out what I wanted to do, what I couldn’t do. . . just to tell me something. . .
Father can’t be like that. . . so he wasn’t. . . just a parent.
I didn’t have this. . . to look at and be proud of me. . . Never.
You asked me what I want. . . Here. . . that it be. . . what was not.
Not too much, right?