In the lake (to the left of the pointer) there was rotten water and frogs, which we inflated through a straw and they floated like floats, the summer cinema by the rotten lake (remnants are visible) was similar to the one in the "Caucasian Captive". The tea roses were fragrant there. Behind our building, in the northern part, there was a watermill on a mountain stream, in which an old Tajik was digging. They took us to the mountains in the direction of Dushanbe, to the blooming poppy fields. Then, even before the deadline, my father took me away and we drove for a long time in a covered truck specially equipped for transporting people along the "Great Uzbek Lenin Highway" still under construction at that time, we arrived in Tashkent when the lanterns were already lit, and home, by nightfall. Childhood come back, come back, dream, dream...