They showed on TV poor homeless children in America, African children to die of starvation, boys from Vietnam and Nicaragua fighting as adults with the real guns in their hands. After turning off the TV-set and going in the street she could see a normal life with some little problems but not such fearing as those from the TV screen. She was absolutely sure that all horrible things like war, hunger, insecurity in the future and so on are left in a distant history, and every new day would bring only more and more happiness for all living in her wonderful country.

If not her illness such a life could be as a bright holiday. But the doctors said she was ill and her mother cried so hard after every visit to those unpleasant places called hospitals. They have visited a lot of studies and all of them smelled the anxiety and every time the doctors at first watched the girl asking to make plenty funny things, like showing the tongue (she was told in early childhood that good girls never showed the tongue to people, only ill-bred ones did such tricks), trying to reach the top of the nose with the finger with closed eyes, and so on, nothing really difficult.

Then they told her to leave the office and started to torment her poor parents with their scaring fairy-tales about her "horrible" illness, which she didn't feel or notice at all. And every time when the parents appeared in the study door after such dull discussions, partly she could hear what were they talking about, the girl felt great guilty for giving so many problems to sweet mommy and daddy.

With all her inner forces she tried to act perfectly like an ideal child. And almost the only case when it was impossible, it was while the game in the yard reached the top interest and just that moment mother's voice called from the balcony, "Irina, immediately come home!" sure, there was quick answer "I'm coming" and then the game continued like nothing happened.

Even being punished many times for the same wrong behavior couldn't change the passion for a good company. After staying at home during many years I see my life like a scene from a movie. When someone is falling from a huge cliff and the very last moment has a luck to catch a dry, dead bush hanging not too far from the edge. Sure, it isn't very comfortable to hang there as a pear but it's much better than to lie on the bottom of this abyss.

Making a little effort it's possible to see normal people's life and from time to time some of them come closer to talk about their problems. They sit down on the edge dangling their legs down and start telling what a hard life they have. Of course I haven't all diversity of their problems, my only one is to stay able hold myself hanging. During the first years of such life, which started about 16 y.o., the inner voice repeated me not once, " let your hands go, put the end to this senseless torment, leave this shaky shelter and you will see that death is kind, it would give you the great relieve and freedom".

Well, I'm not a fighter by nature but to go away such way wasn't for me. It's hard to explain why have I stayed on this little piece of branch. Not for others. Not for a slight hope to change the situation to the better one. I just felt from a moment that it would be a big mistake and perhaps I would pay double prize for my desertion. Sure, it is very easy to imagine what will be in several years. Already now the hands have grown into the branches, made as a whole and it's almost impossible to release them.

Looking around at other persons in similar condition, I see how their bodies merge all together with the cliff and with years become like prehistoric insects which sometimes are found in the pieces of the amber. No possibility to move and a lot of free time. At least now I'm able to turn myself from side to side to look up and down, to talk to my neighbors from the next branch. We can't see each other because of the edge on the cliff but when the wind blows we exchange some news ( by phone of course). I know that she has the same name like me and almost the same style of life. But her shelter holds her stronger and the amber started the work many yeas ago. It could seem rather strange but being in much worse position the others' Irina more often helps me to save the good mood than I do. They say that hope dies last. It seems that mine is dead for years. Well, sometimes stupid dreams fly to my head like birds but they don't create their nests here, just few minutes of rest and nothing more. It's quite natural that during such moments I start to dream about someone strong enough to give me the hand and lift me into that wonderful world seen over the edge of my cliff. There were several brave and noble persons who tried to commit an exploit but every time an obstacle appeared and they should go away staying me their kind wishes to save the hope and wait till better times. Every time it was so painful to watch their torments without having any possibility to help them in that toil. Only thing that I could make for those wonderful people just repeat hundred times," This isn't your fault, there are impossible things in this world." Being not such like others makes you feel an exceptional person sooner or later. It doesn't mean better or worse, just different. Nobody is able to avoid such feeling. In my childhood I was lucky never to be treated as disabled one by my friends from the yard.