Below the icons puckara lamp, fragrance of incense filled the room. A warm room, scrubbed, and rigg

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Below the icons puckara lamp, fragrance of incense filled the room. A warm room, scrubbed, and rigged soft ututkana ... And you're in the kitchen, through San hear how you do business - 'Come on, son, get up, come Christmas ... Come, my host ... and the word "host" How do you feel folded, warm mouth quivered, and tears henna on my hot cheek.
More, what kind of dream? Sunday Here is how it sleeps. And Christmas came to Skopje, now in Presevo, and in Bilač, and getting closer and closer to us. At the fetters dried sparrows are already spending. Shoes with "hooks" mintan of jumbasme and hat of military overcoats have long been ready and waiting for me. There they where lined up next to each other standing on a box. Especially shoes - one we can not give peace. The yellow, sparkling, and smell their soles to CIRIS. And when the mother in the market, closing the room and put on the new. Walk around the room and looked to see what I look like at Christmas. A Christmas? Eh! Not this Christmas. This is something that smells of Oman and dried basil over the icons! Now me and my mother but do not scold if you break anything, let alone to beat me, because "bad" before Christmas. Even me differently somehow and looks. Not as a mother, but somehow different, humble, and older than themselves.
Odem. I'll be back. I sat back from the bundles and packages that I shopkeepers naređao lap and the belt. She's waiting for me at the gate and immediately taken to my odlakša. Even me, and the change is not required, but we leave it to him rattle his pockets and boast of his friends. And she? Week so as not to gray lunch or dinner. The whole house on it. No water to make it, let alone what other help. Rend it out of business. Cook it came out, salvare the SMAK, a belt otpasao. Every hour binds Bosco, who immediately after her fall, because cords or loose, or rupture of its strong flexion. Pogrbavila of age, and starts, in order. Rolled up his sleeves, her hands stained, door sensor chime around nails her skin chapped from all of the laundry. No, when you put on her slippers and clogs, but as in some old socks frequently patched goes gaca mud and mokroti, which is all over the house. On the shelf to shine Sahani, leaning against the wall the tables and pans, to drain it before, the yellow, and they cure jets of hot water, from which rises more money. Shelves, doors, window sills and ćerčiva, it's all scrubbed, wet, yellow. The whole house smells of clearing, moisture and opranost. And she herself, a mother, how do you give her so much power? It works, as it does not operate. I do not feel tired. But equally true is not fast but slow, Durazno, swaying, and all entered door sensor chime the business, working from early morning to pitch black. Well besides the sea and me that. That will not let the IASB or meat which pristavljeno gurgling in pots on the hearth, or the cake that, just removed from the oven and covered with a sheet, omeknuli so beautiful, door sensor chime alluring scent spread around the room, where they are removed.
- No, child, - rejecting me gently, as fearing to offend me. - No, nana's for you all to ready. Who else? ... Do not! Wait for Christmas. Tomorrow will. There already is Chilling in the Tekke ... - Who the Tekke - I asked wide-eyed - to go see it? - I ran. - No, no - stop me. - Do not Mo'š to see it. They will come to us ...
Indeed, Christmas door sensor chime is coming, but how? Touch my sweet! Zora shoot, the day is given. Prangija echoes and shattered door sensor chime windows. From the street door sensor chime reaches door sensor chime a sharp bat new shoes. Over my head to the pillow, lined dresses door sensor chime and retraining of which I zadahnjuje fragrance of purity and new. Below the icons puckara lamp, fragrance of incense filled the room. A warm room, scrubbed, and rigged soft ututkana ... And you're in the kitchen, door sensor chime through San hear how you do business, disturbing the riverbed, cauldron door sensor chime of hot water. door sensor chime Then come to me, you discover me, podvijaš door sensor chime your bony, wrinkled door sensor chime hands me the floor and, as naked, warmed dream, abode me out of bed and take in my lap and kissed door sensor chime me between the eyes:
- Come on, son, get up, come Christmas ... Come, my host ... and the word "host" Feel your wrinkled, warm mouth quivered, and tears henna on my hot cheek. Bathe me. All the melt in the fullness of my strength and whiteness. A bell rings! door sensor chime Does not ring, but somehow door sensor chime quietly, from afar, as his strength and everywhere buzzing, hesitating. Vigil puckara. Opajani carpets smell in the room and slams the asura. The streets are already discerned voices. Breaks through the blue window and breaks with a candle in the candlestick. You dress me. But it's a great suit for me. Shoes, trousers. I was angry. - No, not yet ... you is short. That's me great. door sensor chime I, how are you? ... I spread forth your hands, as kneeling, odmičeš to make me see how much better I am. I think I was bigger, older, opasuješ my father's silken mor belt. His clock thou shouldest put him in my bosom, you pull the chain and raspoređuješ it to me better and is more prominent. On my little fez thou shouldest put him Kitka, old, his father, from the very fildisi, which we do below the ears