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At the house of my friend's father things were happening like this:
- he was a tailor -
Many girls, boys, the elderly came back from the camp to his place.
There it was like this: one brought a chicken or flour.
Some were cooking and others were eating.
It was like just like a kolkhoz. This is how it was.
This was the situation when we returned home.
I didn't return home.
My house was in pieces.
A close friend or acquaintance came to town from Svalyava.
He was born in Koshelovo, but lived in Svalyava.
He bought a piece of land
and they gave him a cow for that.
He told me: "Come with me to Svalyava.
I work at a bakery.
Come with me and do an apprenticeship first.
And then you'll become a baker, just like me."
