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          A book of famouse journalist Maria Karpinskaya is an attempt to connect a world of imagination, or a private world of person with real world. This attempt has succeeded. Today on a border of times and centuries this surprising and magic book gets out. Surprising because it was written by a Woman who has past a colossal way of her soul.
             And why is she here with us? Evidently we will learn it slightly later, for the moment let's go, dear reader, to her Magic Country, where all what is written by her suddenly (or not suddenly) begins to become alive. Ahead to meeting with a Teacher who through her father's figure passed us his knowledges of the World, Earth and people on it.
               Ahead to her ship, where all of us are passengers, inhabitants of planet Earth! Smooth sailing to you!

A winner of the All-Union and International variety competitions, a winner of the International festival of actor's song of Andrei Mironov, an actress of "The Modern" theatre.

Valentina Ignatieva.



Author: Maria Karpinskaya.
Translation: Maya Nikolaeva.

Eighteenth chapter of the book:

Мария Карпинская. Открытая книга детства




The ship ran aground. And we should correct our route. We returned forever in the Childhood. But the wind of feelings has stopped.

I don't know how are you, dear friends, but there is a calmness in my heart. For some reason my feelings stood still. Something doesn't let me further. Well, of course I understood! I have no house of childhood anymore. It was smitten by time. The roots, I lost my roots! Where do I live? I don't know. Everywhere and nowhere.

You understand, it is impossible to live on empty place, where there are only a pink bush, an elm and a lilac. I have no house. The stove that warmed in the cold winter collapsed. And here, as ill luck, the north wind blows, and winter rolls in the eyes. And each worthy ant would tell me: "You was singing, that's okey, but now lets dance!" But by dancing you also won't last long, and will surely freeze. And I, as a captain, have to undertake something, or the wind will bring us to the North Pole, and we all freeze.

I am the captain and I bear a responsibility for my passengers. It is necessary to do something. Perhaps someone will prompt me where to find a house in the middle of winter? How to find own roots?

- What will you tell me, great ship's boy?

- You should want something very strongly. Well, for example, a big house.

- But where? On which end of the earth I can put a house? In Moscow, St. Petersburg, Minsk, or perhaps in India? Tell me, fine man, where is better for me to lodge? You are silent and don't know? I too don't know. Listen, a song from Vladimir Oksikovskii's Islands began to sound, you hear it? Perhaps it will give an answer?

The way home in the middle of winter,
A white image in between gray pines.
And memory returned to me those moments
Of house where once we lived.

Again there is winter, and soon New Year
Will untwist anew my former torment.
Time condemned us on separation,
And from the sky, pure as conscience, snow falls.

Small Homeland, snow and woods.
Small hour under heavens.
My God, have mercy - give us strength
In our small houses in the heart of Russia.

Ah, how I want to enter that house
And to calm in this house my feet,
To relax from the mad road
And to sit down to fire, before a big window.
And snow is falling, tired, as years,
To measure our separation by purity.
Now is so difficult for me to realize
That I will never be with you!

You hear, I will never be able to return back! He, my lost God, doesn't believe in my love! I don't want to let HIM think that everything is hopeless. I WANT it in different way! I will travel on my ship until I meet HIM!

Well, now I have this strong desire. And if woman wants something - it surely happens. I will find you, my darling. If you are in hell, I go down to hell. After all Orpheus went down there for his Eurydice. Though he perished. But I won't be lost, and I will live on this earth with you in our big and beautiful house with friends. And this house will be opened for good people, and any evil force won't be able to get there.

But for now my house is this Ship. I built it all my life. Dear ship's boy, you know where I built my ship - in my soul! And this small lodge under heavens it's what we constructed in our heart, what we dreamed of.

Look, what a big HOUSE-SHIP I built. Everybody who loves travel can lodge in this house. But, my friends, our ship has no name so far. It is wrong. And I suggest to call this HOUSE-SHIP – "WANDERER". Do you like it?

I see, you like this name very much. And now you already guessed that everyone who got on the ship and went to wander together with me by the ocean of feelings, all of you now will be called wanderers among people.

- Between people you became a wanderer to awake in them a melancholy for PERFECTION. But the melancholy can change nothing in our travel. To return to childhood and be sad there - what can be worse. And I offer, while there is no wind, to descend on the land and to think how to refloat the ship.

But to reach the coast some ship's boats are needed, but we don't have them! Wait, one is here. I have taken my boat! Four people can get in there! Ashore we will find some trees and make small boats for ourselves. And then we will think of something to move the ship.

Kind people, is there some inventors among you?

Wow?! I didn't expect that there will be so many of you. Here is an interesting case - you can try your abilities and think up of something smart. I leave you alone with the same experience as I had building this House-Boat in my soul. By the way, it allowed me to move by the most rough small rivers of the life and never let me down. So, I give you a drawing and the vessel itself. Have a Good Luck!

And all of us will look forward to see you on the ship. Don't forget to take the oars. They will become your will.

Be able to put in a joyful hope
On the card everything that hardly saved up,
To lose everything and to become a beggar, as before,
And never regret about that.
Be able to force the heart, nerves and body
To serve you, when in your breast
All is already empty, all burned down,

Ричард Киплинг

Who is ready to that? Volunteers, are you ready? We will wait for your return!




от Жанны Де Арк

от Марии Магдалины

От Майтрейи

Здесь спрятан Ключ!!!

Тот, кто расшифрует текст, спрятанный здесь и построенный по принципу древних манускриптов, обретёт силу всех образов.

Я отрекаюсь от этого мира ,
Странник корабль летит в мир иной.
С собою беру только лиру.

Самые древние знания об истории человечества и вселенной читай в откровениях Марии.