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Although, of course, I did not want to leave for where and why for two years.
And still scared the likelihood get in Afghan.
Also, it was a bit unpleasant that I was still a boy.

However, the latter circumstance was commonplace then.
About the sexual mores of that society, I may still write, there were both sex and fucking and fucking.
And all this was somehow combined with innocence, with a bunch of bans, in which the very word “sex” was practically forbidden.
It is clear that in those days my mood was not the best.
Parents, having learned about the agenda, started talking about wires.
It was quite natural that Rosalina’s parents actively helped them.
After all, for them, I was also “like a son.”
And, both for mine and for them, this was the first test, followed by more children.

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And it’s not surprising that Rosalina was right next to me, who else, if not my sister, since there is no girlfriend who will accompany me to the army.
The evening of wires was difficult to call particularly romantic.
A lot of vodka, a lot of advice from those who have already served.
The boys drunkenly squeezing during the girls’ dances, the repeated repetition “then everything was also written down by snow, we wrote a story on this sheet.”
In general, the romance of those years, of course, was present.
And so, I invited Rosalina to one of the slow dances.
Then, in the dance, I suddenly felt that she was a girl.
But I was drunk, and there was nothing surprising in the fact that I suddenly felt a girl in my sister.
It was amazing then, when all the guests parted, and I lay down for a couple of hours to take a nap on the veranda.

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The next morning had to go to the draft board.
That night Rosalina came to me.
I do not know how she escaped from her, at home, but she climbed into my veranda simply because the house was not locked.
We did nothing with her that night.
Simply, she climbed right in the clothes to me under the blanket, and we lay and talked.
It was already dawning outside.
And even though I had an iron riser, I did not dare deceive myself with my sister.
Then, she was just as quiet as she slipped away, so innocent and beautiful.
And I thought, “what a wonderful little sister is growing up with me.”
All two years we corresponded.
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