confusion for at least 10 to 15 days, to breath freely
and to have a sense of peace.

The dacha thing worked. All the building came to say good-bye
to them. The neighbors kissed them and cried. The following day
they moved to the dacha.

When he entered the dacha, it seemed to Mastan that he had arrived
at the most native place. What a dachasilence, spaciousness.
Even the birds were singing.

The moment he got inside, the first thing that Mastan did was
to take off his clothes. It had been a long time since the curly
black hair on Mastan's body, chest and back had seen the open
air and sun.

He rolled up his trousers to his knees and took off his socks.
It had been a long time since Mastan's big feet - his crooked
toes that sweatedno matter how
hard she shook the tree, Mastan didn't hear a thing. Mastan's
eyes became glazed over from singing. They became as big as plums.
Mastan's face became swollen from singing. Swollen and ruddy-colored
like fresh bread. His chest expanded like a lion's.

While singing, Mastan was feeling that something was slowly happening.
Something was draining out of his body, his innards and marrow.
Mastan was becoming relieved and comfortable as he was singing.

That day Mastan sang until he lost his voice. He came down after
his voice got hoarse, and he became breathless and his heart
started beating faster.

That very day Mastan's wife said a lot of nasty things to him.
She said everything that she had wanted to say for the past 16
years that she had kept in her heart until now.

And Mastan, even though