I do not understand those who do not suffer from this disease, does not suffer, does not roar at night. Because we had a homeland, and here it is not. Well, how not to scold on it? This is our homeland, son.
And this is the channel with the same name "nostalgia". Pretty dough, simple, with a huge number of repetitions, and these repetitions are still drawn years. Probably, they suffer from lack of money, from lack of content, but sometimes ...
Only sometimes, sometimes, for large holidays there is something special, such expensive for me. And then you plunge into your childhood, youth. This is the Morning Mail with Nikolayev and Kinopanoram with Eldar Alexandrovich, the Great "Kinopanoram"! And "Theatrical Meetings", and cabbagers with indispensable shirvindt and Derzhadin, and "Songs of the Year 78 ... 80 ..." Yes, Moscow Olympiad and Horror "Afghan" - all this was then together.
Back at nine in the evening I turn on the time program. Where Dear Leonid Ilyich, his "Tits-Masi", and Comrade Andropov, Kagabeschnik to the brain of bones with clean hands and a cold head, and lead from fields, such boring and beautiful, already yawning hunting. And "The holiday of Christmas began, but restlessly on the heart of ordinary Paris", and Dr. Heider, something all the time demanding from the White House, lying there at the fence and at the same time losing weight ... and Mikhail Sergeevich with his restructuring, and Boris Nikolaevich, who is not right ...
You live anew your life, the life of the country, and cry from this fairy tale about the lost time. These are light tears in fact, light sadness. This is nostalgia.