She stroked Jeanne's head with clumsy hands, unable to control her movements any longer. Masha knew she was about to pass out completely. With one hand she hugged the girl, soothing her, and with the other she began to pull Zhanna's bottle of formula out of her backpack with difficulty.

We bought Grandpa a parrot, But they didn't know what to feed him, So we got some treats, And the fun began Grandpa's fun new friend He's talking to everyone around him

It was a long time ago, One fine summer day, Two piglets found a typewriter, They decided to write a letter. Suddenly there was a serious question: What to write about and to whom?

Many people as children dreamed of having some kind of superpower. Some dreamed of being able to fly, some dreamed of becoming invisible, and some dreamed of understanding the language of animals and birds. Perhaps some even had several dream superpowers. For me, mind-reading was at the top of the list.

Although the Athenian politician Clysphenes is considered one of the founders of democratic society, very little is known about him. However, his story is intrinsically linked to the birth of democracy.

Папа пошел в другую комнату, и принес… свою газету, в которой была статья о Саре Эрланд. Оказалось, она была не биологом, и даже не химиком, а врачом-нейрохирургом, и не обычным, а известным чуть ли не всей стране. Она спасала даже тех, кому остальные даже не брались помочь.

Deep in the Brazilian Amazon forests, a discovery has been made: seven giant funerary urns from the pre-Columbian era. These impressive ceramic vessels, probably made centuries or even millennia ago, were discovered by chance by a fisherman in the middle reaches of the Solimões River, along the upper reaches of the Amazon.

Some microbes found in Yellowstone National Park's hot springs may hold the secrets to the evolution of life on Earth.

Or do they argue? And why do some people like classics and oatmeal and others like rap and hamburgers? Are tastes innate? Or do they depend on upbringing? Or maybe it's hereditary at all?

И вот проходит еще три дня, и вечером я снова беру в руки газету. Ту же самую. Газета-то та же самая, только вот статья в ней совсем другая. Не про Кристобаля Хиля и его картины, и даже не про семью Бэкландов, а… История смерти маленького мальчика. И этим мальчиком был внук Олафсенов.

Я вспомнила их всех, и особенно козлика Мальчика, и вдруг подумала, что мальчик, о котором говорили Олафсены – вовсе не обязательно человек. Козлика они держать, конечно, не будут, но собакой-то он может оказаться? Вполне. Во всяком случае, нельзя было исключать и этот вариант тоже.