Story of a Life, Volume 6 |
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Page 52
Cold A black , tar - laden smoke , slightly coloured by the purple flame rose up in
billows over the bonfires . The bonfire smoke and the January cold hung like a
low pall over Moscow . Trams , bells ringing , ground their slow way through the ...
Cold A black , tar - laden smoke , slightly coloured by the purple flame rose up in
billows over the bonfires . The bonfire smoke and the January cold hung like a
low pall over Moscow . Trams , bells ringing , ground their slow way through the ...
Page 58
The smoke was purple in the frosty sun . In front of me the river Klyazma sent up
clouds of steam just as fiercely as Pushkino billowed forth its smoke , and
covered the whole landscape . The forest crackled under the frost , like
smouldering ...
The smoke was purple in the frosty sun . In front of me the river Klyazma sent up
clouds of steam just as fiercely as Pushkino billowed forth its smoke , and
covered the whole landscape . The forest crackled under the frost , like
smouldering ...
Page 168
There was altogether too much smoke on the earth , smoke of all shades and
colours from a canary - yellow ' fox tail ' to violet , brown , red , white , and blue -
black . The sky was always covered in smoke . I saw the real Urals when I went
for ...
There was altogether too much smoke on the earth , smoke of all shades and
colours from a canary - yellow ' fox tail ' to violet , brown , red , white , and blue -
black . The sky was always covered in smoke . I saw the real Urals when I went
for ...
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able appeared asked Babel Bagritsky banks beauty birds boys breath brought called clear cold colour course covered dark door everything eyes face fact Father feeling felt floor flowers forests friends garden gave girls give hand happened head hundred immediately Kara-Bugaz kind knew land later leaves light lived looked lying morning Moscow Mother never night occasionally Odessa once particularly Peter play poet poetry published quiet rain reason remained remember river Roskin round Russian seemed ship short side silence sitting smell smoke soon sound started station story streets suddenly tell things thought took town train trees turned village voice walked walls warm whole wind window women writer wrote young Zuzenko