Hicran Tamasasi Hirslй™nmй™ Basa Sal Access

"Explain? Explain how a piece of history becomes a piece of junk in your hands?" Dadaş stepped closer, his voice reaching the balconies of the three stories above them.

"Listen," Mammad began, waving a copper pipe vaguely. "I saw a speck of dust. Just one! I thought, 'Dadaş loves this samovar like a son. I shall polish it.' But the polish was strong, Dadaş! Too strong! It didn't just take the dust; it took the handle right off!" Hicran Tamasasi HirslЙ™nmЙ™ Basa Sal

"Mammad!" Dadaş roared, his hands trembling. "My grandfather’s samovar! What did you do?" "Explain

Instead of exploding, Dadaş simply sat down, put his head in his hands, and laughed. "In the play, it’s a comedy," he whispered. "In my life, it’s a tragedy." "I saw a speck of dust

He took the tape from Mammad. "Go get the tea leaves, Mammad. We will drink tea from a samovar with a blue handle. Just... don't explain anything else today."