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with a crash in such a wild panic – according to the
regulations they should never have even been taken out at
all! And so on and so forth – an endless stream of mutual
accusations and justifications between the builders, users,
enemies and friends of peaceful nuclear power for Soviet
aims.
I know there are no longer birches, poplars, a city, houses,
Lenin Street, the school, the 50,000 inhabitants have
disappeared somewhere. But my dear little Soviet comrade,
I still keep your address, I write you letters that never arrive
– just so you know that I am eternally grateful to your
father and to all those fathers who despite the efforts of the
control system managed to blow the reactor sky-high. To
blow
me
sky-high.
>>>
I, unlike everyone else, do not blame K-shev for not
warning us. I don't care – I have unique personal memories,
historical ones. For me, Chernobyl is a flash of a moment
that surpasses all moments worthy of the name "epic." Like
the eureka light bulb going off in Edison's skull: the day you
understand everything without needing to think.