In his hand he holds a strange, crumpled letter. mail

Who's knocking on my door
With a thick shoulder bag
With the number 5 on a copper plaque,
In a blue uniform cap?
It's him,
It's him,
Leningrad postman.
He has a lot today
Letters in a bag on my side, -
From Tashkent, Taganrog,
From Tambov and Baku.
At seven o'clock he started business,
At ten the bag lost weight,
And by twelve o'clock
I spread everything to the addresses.

Custom made from Rostov
For Comrade Zhitkov!
- Custom for Zhitkov?
Sorry, there is no such thing!
Flew to London yesterday
At seven fourteen in the morning.

Zhitkov abroad
Rushing through the air -
The ground turns green below.
And after Zhitkov
In the mail car
The registered letter is being carried.

Shelf packages
Are laid out with sense,
On the road, disassembly is underway
And two postmen
On the benches of the carriage
Rocking the night away.
Postcard - To Dubrovka,
Parcel - To Pokrovka,
Newspaper - To Rostov-on-Don.
Letter - In Bologoye.
But customized
Will go to a foreign country.

The letter itself
Won't go anywhere
But put it in the box -
It will run
Will fly by
Will float
Thousands of miles of path.

It's not hard to write
See the light:
He doesn't need a ticket.
For copper money
Will travel the world
Sealed
Passenger.

On the road it
Doesn't drink or eat
And only one
Is talking:
- Urgent.
England. London.
West 14, Bobkin Street.

Runs throwing a load
The bus is behind the bus.
Rocking on the roof
Posters and posters.
The ladder conductor yells:
- End of the route. Bobkin Street!

Down Bobkin Street, Down Bobkin Street
Mr. Smith is walking fast
In a postage blue cap,
And he himself is like a chip.

Goes to the fourteenth house,
Knocks with a hanging hammer
And he says sternly:
- For Mr. Zhitkov.
The doorman looks out from under his glasses
Name and surname
And he says: - Boris Zhitkov
I went to Brazil.

The steamer will depart
In two minutes.
Suitcases people
Took all the cabins.

But into one of the cabins
They are not carrying suitcases.
This is what will go there:
Postman and mail.

Under the palm trees of Brazil
I'm tired of the heat
The gray-haired Basilio walks,
Brazilian postman.

He holds the strange in his hand,
Crumpled letter.
On the stamp - foreign
Postage stamp.

And the inscription above the surname
That the addressee
Left Brazil
Back to Leningrad.

Who's knocking on my door
With a thick shoulder bag
With the number 5 on a copper plaque,
In a blue uniform cap?
It's him,
It's him,
Leningrad postman!
He holds out again
Custom-made for Zhitkov.
- For Zhitkov?
Hey Boris,
Receive and sign!

My neighbor jumped out of bed:
- That's a miracle indeed.
Look, the letter is behind me
The globe flew around the earth,
Raced across the sea in pursuit
It rushed to the Amazon.
They drove him after me
Trains and ships.
Along the seas and mountain slopes
It has come to me.

Honor and glory to the postmen,
Tired, dusty
Glory to honest postmen
With a thick shoulder bag!

Who's knocking on my door
With a thick shoulder bag
With the number 5 on a copper plaque,
In a blue uniform cap?
It's him,
It's him,
Leningrad postman.

Him
There are many
Letters
In a bag on the side
From Tashkent,
Taganrog,
From Tambov
And Baku.

At seven o'clock he started business,
At ten the bag lost weight,
And by twelve o'clock
I smashed everything to the addresses.

2

Custom made from Rostov
For Comrade Zhitkov!
Custom for Zhitkov?
Sorry, there is no such thing!
Where is this citizen?
I flew to Berlin yesterday.

3

Zhitkov abroad
Rushes through the air
The ground turns green below.
And after Zhitkov
In the mail car
The registered letter is being carried.
Shelf packages
Are laid out with sense,
On the road, the disassembly is going on,
And two postmen
On the benches of the carriage
Rocking all night long.

Card
To Dubrovka,
Package
To Pokrovka,
Newspaper
To the Klin station.
Letter
In Bologoye.
But customized
Will go abroad - to Berlin.

4

There is a Berlin postman,
The last mail is loaded.
He is dressed in such a dandy:
Peaked cap with red piping.
On a navy blazer
Azure buttonholes.
He walks and holds in his hand
Letter from abroad.

All around the passers-by are in a hurry.
Cars rustle with tires,
One another is faster
Along the Linden Alley.
The postman leads to the door,
Bow to the old Swiss.
Letter to Herr Zhitkov
From number six!
Yesterday at eleven o'clock
Zhitkov left for England!

5

Letter
Itself
Won't go anywhere
But put it in the box
It will run
Will fly by
Will float
Thousands of miles on the way.

It's not hard to write
See the light:
His
No ticket needed.
For copper money
Will travel the world
Sealed
Passenger.
On the road
It
Doesn't drink or eat
And only one
Is talking:
Urgent.
England.
London.
West,
14, Bobkin Street.

6

Runs throwing a load
The bus is behind the bus.
Rocking on the roof
Posters and posters.
The ladder conductor yells:
End of the route! Bobkin Street!
Down Bobkin Street, Down Bobkin Street
Mr. Smith is walking fast
In a postage blue cap,
And he himself is like a chip.

Goes to the fourteenth house,
Knocks with a hanging hammer
And he says sternly:
For Mr. Zhitkov.
The doorman looks out from under his glasses
Name and surname
And he says: - Boris Zhitkov
Went to Brazil!

7

Steamer
Will move away
In two minutes.
Suitcases people
Took all the cabins.
But into one of the cabins
They are not carrying suitcases.
This is what will go there:
Postman and mail.

8

Under the palm trees of Brazil
I'm tired of the heat
Don Basilio is walking,
Brazilian postman.
He holds the strange in his hand,
Crumpled letter.
On the stamp - foreign
Postage stamp.
And the inscription above the surname
That the addressee
Left Brazil
Back to Leningrad.

9

Who's knocking on my door
With a thick shoulder bag
With the number 5 on a copper plaque,
In a blue uniform cap?
It's him,
It's him,
Leningrad postman.
He holds out again
Custom-made for Zhitkov.
For Zhitkov?
Hey Boris,
Receive and sign!

10

My neighbor jumped out of bed:
That's a miracle indeed!
Look, the letter is behind me
The globe flew around the earth.
Raced across the sea in pursuit
It rushed to the Amazon.
They drove him after me
Trains and ships.
Along the seas and mountain slopes
It has come to me.
Honor and glory to the postmen,
Tired and dusty.
Glory to honest postmen
With a thick shoulder bag!

Indian sadhu (saint, ascetic) Amar Bhart has been holding his hand up for 44 years. Before he embarked on the spiritual path, his name was Mahant Amar Bharti Ji and he was a clerk in New Delhi. In 1973, he raised his hand above his head in honor of the god Shiva and never lowered it, despite the pain and deformation.

After all these years, his hand had become useless bones covered with skin, with thick and coiled nails (because no one had cut them). The arm was completely atrophied and froze in an unnatural, almost upright position.

(9 photos total)

Before becoming a sadhu, Amar Bharati was a typical Indian middle class with a job and a family. But one morning he realized that all this did not matter, he gave up everything and devoted his life to serving the Hindu god Shiva.

Three years later, in 1973, he realized that he was still associated with worldly temptations and decided to cut himself off from them by keeping his hand raised.

Some sources claim that Amar Bharati was in great pain due to wars and strife all over the world, and he decided to raise his hand up for the sake of peace. Despite his mundane past, sadhu Amar Bharati is highly revered during the Kumbha Mela mass pilgrimage rituals in the city of Haridwar.

Maha Kumbha Mela in Haridwar is one of the largest religious mass events in the world. Amar Bharati also inspired other sadhus to raise their hands for peace and harmony. Some of them have kept their hands up for 7, 13 and even 25 years.

Sadhu Amar Bharati said in an interview that his spiritual discourse focuses on bitterness and strife in modern world, on how people destroy their neighbors, and most importantly - to live in peace and harmony.

When asked if his raised hand hurts, Amar replies that it hurt, but he got used to it. Like most ascetics, he did not want to talk about life before he made his vow.

Amar Bharati explains that he is doing what many saints have done before him, and that he is simply continuing the tradition. In India it is called "urdhaman tapasya" and means a type of service when an ascetic devotes a part of his body to God.

Although there is no documentary evidence that Amar Bharati held his hand up for 44 years, Indian sadhus are known to perform unusual tasks in the name of faith, such as sleeping while standing or fasting for long periods. In India there is a saint Prahlad Jani, who has not eaten or drank anything for 70 years. His case has been verified and documented by doctors.

And the letters of happiness have not yet been translated in Russia! The healer Astana, aka Zauresh (who vaguely reminded me of sauropods), without any helplessness, said that the letter in search of me went around the world 455 times, after which with many exclamation marks began to insist that I "be sure to read the end of the letter", because "there is a secret there."

I was a little ashamed that Zauresh (I decided to assume that this is still a species of dinosaur) dragged along behind me with his message for so long, and I read the tamo. The secret was simple and lay in the fact that luck (again in search of me) went around the world 9 times. Through simple calculations, I found out that in the other four hundred and forty-six cases it was sheer bad luck, and I was glad that all this time I was able to successfully dodge it.

Drive away laziness and read, at the end you will say thank you !!! - the dinosaur wrote with anguish. Apparently, many niasilili. I obediently drove away laziness and washed, cleaned and generally did the housework for two whole days. Then I got lazy and finished reading.

The dinosaur wrote how a poor peasant woman, Tsigunova, four days after receiving the letter, dug up a treasure, then married Prince Golitsin and became a millionaire. While I was thinking, why the hell did the prince surrender to her in the presence of the treasure, although, of course, with such pigs you somehow become yourself .. zauresh warned that the three, seven and ace will win you a series of Xs, a game and two more- three mathematical symbols will bring good luck for nine years, that Marshal Tukhachevsky burned the letter and was shot (posthumously, in 1943 - he probably did not notice), and Conan Doyle did not print it, got into a disaster and both his hands were amputated. The tragic fate of Conan Doyle upset me so much that Dante, who, after halfway through earthly life, received twenty thousand dollars in 1929, was no longer particularly impressive, and Pugachev, who got the same amount, but in 1980, caused outright boredom.

The Girl from Kuntsevo, who rewrote the letter a hundred thousand times, was sorely lacking, after which HER WAS HELP (no other than correcting the spelling mark) and a Mexican character of a dubious sex, who was just about to rewrite, but put it off for later due to other pressing problems ( his brother gouging, although Mexican.) All further stories ended with a Big Freebie and were of little interest.

Not so: Don Pedro Gomez found a bottle with this letter at the southern tip of the Cape of Good Hope, where he caught trepangs for his supper .. or so: a grandmother died in one family and before she died she said: whatever you want to do, just don’t buy red curtains rewrite letters twenty times. But the girl did not obey and began to rewrite, and all her fingers became green and her hands fell off. Something like that.

Or, say, a poor peasant woman, Tsigunova, met qigong, and her third eye opened, her second mouth opened, and a hairy hand with fourteen fingers grew on the back of her head.

Because in such things there should be scope.

I wish you every happiness, and if someone suddenly undertakes to rewrite this twenty times, he will be left without arms, legs and ax.

When we try to take someone by the hand, we invade their personal space, this must always be remembered. This zone can be thought of as an air bubble that each of us inflates and contracts depending on the circumstances. And we would rather agree to narrow it down in a crowded subway car than, say, in an office.

Define the boundaries of personal space

The size of personal space depends on the origin of a person, his social status, personal preferences, culture, as well as the degree of acquaintance with those who approach him. According to the American anthropologist Edward T. Hall, the intimate zone, intended for those closest to you, occupies an average of 0.5 m; from 0.5 m to 1.2 m - a personal area for communication with close friends, from 1.2 m to 3.7 m - a social area suitable for business communication... The violation of these boundaries by outsiders makes us feel uncomfortable.

For this reason, it would be right to keep your distance at the beginning of the relationship. And touching another person's hand - even if it's not at all a romantic gesture - preferably at the right time and in the right situation. Your attempt to touch someone you just met can annoy the other person, although they will smile sweetly in return, not wanting to offend you. As the relationship develops, we allow the other closer to our intimate zone.

Find out the intentions of the interlocutor

There is an easy way to find out if the other person is ready to let you into their personal space - move your personal items closer to him (for example, a purse, notebook, cigarettes). Such objects are perceived by others as an extension of our body. When you are sitting with someone at the same table, you follow the unspoken rule that half of the table is at your disposal, and half is the other person's space.

A stranger will most likely perceive the "intrusion" of your objects into their territory with irritation, and you will notice his discomfort. Only close friends, family members, and lovers are oblivious to these movements. If a woman pushes her bag closer to a man, this may be a sign that she likes him and she would like a closer relationship.

Consider cultural differences

Like all non-verbal gestures, tactile contact is perceived differently in different cultures. In the West, joining hands is a romantic gesture. When we see two people putting their palms together, we can easily assume that they have a close relationship. Therefore, if you do not want to be misunderstood, do not hold hands with people who do not interest you, even if they are the first to make contact.

Many Western men do not take each other's hand for fear of being mistaken for homosexuals. But in Arab culture, this is a friendly gesture that has nothing to do with sexual orientation.

What does this gesture mean? When a man takes a woman by the hand, it can also mean several things:

• romantic affection and deep connection;
• uncertainty or fear of losing it;
• trying to calm her down when she is upset;
• superiority - he is the one who plays a major role in the relationship;
• an attempt to show the whole world that she belongs to him and only to him;
• window dressing;
• he is proud to be seen next to this woman, but this does not mean that he values ​​his relationship with her.

Higher or Stronger?

Most body language books will tell you that when partners join hands, the pair's hand is always on top. However, a study by psychologists at Temple University in Philadelphia back in 1998 showed that there may be other factors that influence the way we hold hands:

Floor: the hand of a man in a heterosexual couple is much more likely to be above the hand of a woman (regardless of their relationship).

Height: in a pair where the man is taller or the same height as his partner, his hand is on top more often than in a pair where the man is shorter than the woman.

What if your lover doesn't want to take your hand?

Walking the streets by the hand is not a pleasure for everyone. Many do not find it necessary to publicly demonstrate their feelings, however deep they may be. If your husband or wife avoids such poetic mise-en-scenes, this does not mean that he (she) does not love you. Most likely, it is difficult for him to relax in public places. Perhaps he (she) is afraid that, having discovered his love for you, he will look weak, vulnerable, infantile. Changing this belief is not easy, but you can try the following:

1. Before grabbing your companion by the hand in public, do the experiment described above to see if he is tuned in to tactile contact with you in principle. If he keeps his distance, don't take it personally. Instead of being offended, gently explain that touching loved ones is soothing and makes you feel better.
2. Work on your relationship as a whole: If you have no desire to hug and touch each other when you are alone, then you can hardly expect this desire to appear in public.
3. Be honest with yourself: do you want to hold your partner's hand in public because you love him or because you want to show others that this is your boyfriend (your girlfriend)? Or to prove that you have power over him? If your intentions are not pure, your partner may feel resentful.