Трамвай №13
That's just the way this world works: as children, we encounter death for the first time, when our grandparents pass away. Memories of them remain, memories that grow brighter, clearer, and more life-saving with each passing year. Their cozy, unhurried stories, warm kitchens, and truly special friendships. Sometimes I mentally consult them when I have to make choices. What would Grandma say? "Don't sweat the small stuff. Everything can be fixed, except death..." But what if that, too, can be fixed? It sounds like a fairy tale, but Grandma always had a story for every topic. What if I created a world in which I didn't let her leave me?
