The Money of a Little Boy. 4 True Stories

«You are holding a time machine with additional options. Let me explain. I have never written for women, nor for men, nor for adults, nor for children — I have always written for myself. I just wrote this book for myself as I was in childhood. In my happy Soviet childhood. Remembering those years, which now seem like a morning impression of some wonderful dream, I wonder how much I would give to return to one of those days. The price is known. Exactly as much as I will be willing to give in about thirty years to return to this, today’s, day. So why pay? Here it is — the day I will definitely want to experience, its people, its warmth, its experiences, and its happiness. Isn’t it a miracle? It’s just that in childhood I didn’t realize I would want to go back, and now I understand. At least something has appeared in my head with age. I won’t pay for anything! I’ll just try not to go to bed too early today and attempt to travel back to my past. And I invite you too. Perhaps you will better understand that time and us, those who were born then.» Sasha Tsypkin