Leushka has become like young Werther,” my father joked, ignorant of the cause of my tears. “Don’t cry,” Nini reproached. “Crying never helped anyone. If I had ever thought about crying, I wouldn’t be here. I would have thrown myself under a train or joined my cousins in the mental asylum. Do something. Read another book. Learn a new language. Find some activity.” I started to volunteer for the Red Cross and got involved in a project at the local orphanage. Every morning, we would take the children to the beach and, along with the carers, look after them while they messed around in the sand or
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