Natural Clairvoyants

[Веретенников Сергей]

Everyone knows about gypsies. If you say just the word “gypsy woman,” everyone associates it with the word “fortune-telling.”

I decided to look into what this actually means and why it is so.

After all, we study clairvoyance at my School, and it is impossible to ignore this obvious fact. Some people, living practically EVERYWHERE, have a reputation for clairvoyance. Let’s investigate.

First of all, as always, I know all this not from books. I once visited a gypsy woman, about 25 years ago. I don’t need to say much—there is a gypsy woman in every city whom people visit to have their fortunes told and find out things... well, you know what I mean.

For me personally, it was an interesting experience. The house was rather unusual, and the inside even more so. I sat in the waiting room; there was a queue. Ordinary people. Apparently, they wanted to find something out. Again, it was simply a house—a private residence. A bunch of gypsy children running around, and so on. Yet there was a queue of ordinary people.

I entered her room. It was even more original. There really was some kind of special atmosphere, an aura...

The most interesting thing was that she came out herself and called people in from the queue. When my turn came, I was a little nervous. She said to me, “What did you come for?” I said, “I want to find out something.” She replied, “You know everything yourself.” “All right, come in.”

She told my fortune in a somewhat different way. Formally, so to speak. I thought at the time that people came to her with all sorts of important questions, while I had turned up simply wanting to find out what it was like to visit a clairvoyant...
After all, I was interested in all that back then—clairvoyance, the third eye, and so on.

It was very interesting. She was a very pleasant and interesting woman. She must have been about 40 at the time. I don’t even know why society has a negative attitude toward them.

There is something special about them. Clearly, they have some kind of gift.
Maybe this is why people around the world have such an ambivalent attitude toward them...

A little history. The Nazis showed no mercy to the gypsies. It was a terrible genocide.
We can only speculate about why Hitler was AFRAID of them. That is why he exterminated them. Psychology makes it clear—even there: you destroy what you fear.
And Hitler, who was connected with esotericism, definitely KNEW something about the gypsies.

I can say for myself that I know for certain that the gypsies are connected with...

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<div class="bbWrapper">Everyone knows about gypsies. If you say just the word “gypsy woman,” everyone associates it with the word “fortune-telling.”<br /> <br /> I decided to look into what this actually means and why it is so.<br /> <br /> After all, we study clairvoyance at my School, and it is impossible to ignore this obvious fact. Some people, living practically EVERYWHERE, have a reputation for clairvoyance. Let’s investigate.<br /> <br /> First of all, as always, I know all this not from books. I once visited a gypsy woman, about 25 years ago. I don’t need to say much—there is a gypsy woman in every city whom people visit to have their fortunes told and find out things... well, you know what I mean.<br /> <br /> For me personally, it was an interesting experience. The house was rather unusual, and the inside even more so. I sat in the waiting room; there was a queue. Ordinary people. Apparently, they wanted to find something out. Again, it was simply a house—a private residence. A bunch of gypsy children running around, and so on. Yet there was a queue of ordinary people.<br /> <br /> I entered her room. It was even more original. There really was some kind of special atmosphere, an aura...<br /> <br /> The most interesting thing was that she came out herself and called people in from the queue. When my turn came, I was a little nervous. She said to me, “What did you come for?” I said, “I want to find out something.” She replied, “You know everything yourself.” “All right, come in.”<br /> <br /> She told my fortune in a somewhat different way. Formally, so to speak. I thought at the time that people came to her with all sorts of important questions, while I had turned up simply wanting to find out what it was like to visit a clairvoyant...<br /> After all, I was interested in all that back then—clairvoyance, the third eye, and so on.<br /> <br /> It was very interesting. She was a very pleasant and interesting woman. She must have been about 40 at the time. I don’t even know why society has a negative attitude toward them.<br /> <br /> There is something special about them. Clearly, they have some kind of gift.<br /> Maybe this is why people around the world have such an ambivalent attitude toward them...<br /> <br /> A little history. The Nazis showed no mercy to the gypsies. It was a terrible genocide.<br /> We can only speculate about why Hitler was AFRAID of them. That is why he exterminated them. Psychology makes it clear—even there: you destroy what you fear.<br /> And Hitler, who was connected with esotericism, definitely KNEW something about the gypsies.<br /> <br /> I can say for myself that I know for certain that the gypsies are connected with...<br /> <br /> <b>Read the continuation:</b><br /> <div class="bbCodeBlock bbCodeBlock--hide bbCodeBlock--hidden"> <div class="bbCodeBlock-title"> Content of this hidden block can only be seen by members of: <font color="#c22825">Открытый Клуб</font> </div> </div></div>

 

[Веретенников Сергей]

And probably at one of the levels related to the opening of the Third Eye , I will provide a method for working with these “tablets,” as knowledge from Egypt.

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<div class="bbWrapper">And probably at one of the levels related to the<b> <a href="https://www.youryoga.ru/school/en/threads/opisanie-vsex-platnyx-kursov-shkoly.36/#3" target="_blank" class="link link--external" rel="nofollow noopener">opening of the Third Eye</a> </b>, I will provide a method for working with these “tablets,” as knowledge from Egypt.</div>

 

[55555]

Namaste! Where I lived as a child, there was a Roma settlement nearby. They take the purity of their blood very seriously; marriages are possible only between Roma. All the women, including little girls, wear long skirts and do not expose their legs. Their heads are covered with beautiful scarves, and they love gold. An article about the origin of the Roma said that one of the ethnic groups in Europe has a reputation for being cheap prostitutes. This is very strange, because where I lived, Roma women were known for their high moral standards. Young women sold goods at the bazaar, while older women read fortunes there. The men guarded them. The Roma have a baron, and the entire camp is under his authority. The baron is usually very wealthy. That is their hierarchy. They are freedom-loving and free. They chose a place and built their own homes there—a whole neighborhood. Their homes were not demolished but incorporated into the city, even though they had been built chaotically. A very distinctive people. They adapt to where they live and communicate with the local population, but remain a cohesive community.

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<div class="bbWrapper">Namaste! Where I lived as a child, there was a Roma settlement nearby. They take the purity of their blood very seriously; marriages are possible only between Roma. All the women, including little girls, wear long skirts and do not expose their legs. Their heads are covered with beautiful scarves, and they love gold. An article about the origin of the Roma said that one of the ethnic groups in Europe has a reputation for being cheap prostitutes. This is very strange, because where I lived, Roma women were known for their high moral standards. Young women sold goods at the bazaar, while older women read fortunes there. The men guarded them. The Roma have a baron, and the entire camp is under his authority. The baron is usually very wealthy. That is their hierarchy. They are freedom-loving and free. They chose a place and built their own homes there—a whole neighborhood. Their homes were not demolished but incorporated into the city, even though they had been built chaotically. A very distinctive people. They adapt to where they live and communicate with the local population, but remain a cohesive community.</div>

 

[Удалённый пользователь 458]

I have always had a negative attitude toward the Roma because of opinions, beliefs, and fears imposed on me by others, starting at school. After reading what was written about the Roma here, I recently went to the bazaar and saw a Roma woman (there are many of them sitting along the walkway). I caught myself realizing that I had begun to feel differently about them—respectfully, without any inner fear (that they might hypnotize me, and so on). And I was not thinking this; I was feeling it!!! A different attitude toward the Roma. Thank you, Om Shanti.

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<div class="bbWrapper">I have always had a negative attitude toward the Roma because of opinions, beliefs, and fears imposed on me by others, starting at school. After reading what was written about the Roma here, I recently went to the bazaar and saw a Roma woman (there are many of them sitting along the walkway). I caught myself realizing that I had begun to feel differently about them—respectfully, without any inner fear (that they might hypnotize me, and so on). And I was not thinking this; I was feeling it!!! A different attitude toward the Roma. Thank you, Om Shanti.</div>

 

[2101197]

Namaste! Where I lived as a child, there was a Roma settlement nearby. They take the purity of their blood very seriously; marriages are possible only between Roma. All the women, including little girls, wear long skirts and do not expose their legs. Their heads are covered with beautiful scarves, and they love gold. An article about the origin of the Roma said that one of the ethnic groups in Europe has a reputation for being cheap prostitutes. This is very strange, because where I lived, Roma women were known for their high moral standards. Young women sold goods at the bazaar, while older women read fortunes there. The men guarded them. The Roma have a baron, and the entire camp is under his authority. The baron is usually very wealthy. That is their hierarchy. They are freedom-loving and free. They chose a place and built their own homes there—a whole neighborhood. Their homes were not demolished but incorporated into the city, even though they had been built chaotically. A very distinctive people. They adapt to where they live and communicate with the local population, but remain a cohesive community.

I spent my childhood near Roma settlements. I grew up with them and went to school with them. I agree about their sense of community and morality. I know them from both their good and bad sides. Although I suppose the same can be said about every person. Still, I prefer seeing the good side. But the way they sang—you could listen spellbound. We always ran to watch their weddings, which were like entire performances. Everyone dressed up, covered in gold.

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<div class="bbWrapper"><blockquote class="bbCodeBlock bbCodeBlock--expandable bbCodeBlock--quote"> <div class="bbCodeBlock-title"> <a href="/school/en/goto/post?id=3520" class="bbCodeBlock-sourceJump" data-xf-click="attribution" data-content-selector="#post-3520">55555 said:</a> </div> <div class="bbCodeBlock-content"> <div class="bbCodeBlock-expandContent "> Namaste! Where I lived as a child, there was a Roma settlement nearby. They take the purity of their blood very seriously; marriages are possible only between Roma. All the women, including little girls, wear long skirts and do not expose their legs. Their heads are covered with beautiful scarves, and they love gold. An article about the origin of the Roma said that one of the ethnic groups in Europe has a reputation for being cheap prostitutes. This is very strange, because where I lived, Roma women were known for their high moral standards. Young women sold goods at the bazaar, while older women read fortunes there. The men guarded them. The Roma have a baron, and the entire camp is under his authority. The baron is usually very wealthy. That is their hierarchy. They are freedom-loving and free. They chose a place and built their own homes there—a whole neighborhood. Their homes were not demolished but incorporated into the city, even though they had been built chaotically. A very distinctive people. They adapt to where they live and communicate with the local population, but remain a cohesive community. </div> <div class="bbCodeBlock-expandLink"><a>Click to expand...</a></div> </div> </blockquote>I spent my childhood near Roma settlements. I grew up with them and went to school with them. I agree about their sense of community and morality. I know them from both their good and bad sides. Although I suppose the same can be said about every person. Still, I prefer seeing the good side. But the way they sang—you could listen spellbound. We always ran to watch their weddings, which were like entire performances. Everyone dressed up, covered in gold.</div>

 

[1504197]

Gypsies are powerful people—not all of them, of course, but those who possess the power and knowledge of the crafts of clairvoyance and psychology. I've tested this. I experienced their might and power firsthand about 20 years ago at the railway station in Khabarovsk—it was complete chaos.

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<div class="bbWrapper">Gypsies are powerful people—not all of them, of course, but those who possess the power and knowledge of the crafts of clairvoyance and psychology. I've tested this. I experienced their might and power firsthand about 20 years ago at the railway station in Khabarovsk—it was complete chaos.</div>

 

[2611]

I once went to a Gypsy woman.

I also have a negative stereotype about Gypsies.
It's one thing when you go to her yourself to have your fortune told, and quite another when they accost you at the market—and if you give in, they'll either talk you out of your money or tell you something terrible.
I remember walking down a city street when a Gypsy woman approached me. She started calling out when she was still about three meters away: “Oh, come here, I'll tell you everything as it is...” I don't know where I found the courage at that moment, but I abruptly replied, “Go away, you're not going to tell me anything good.” She was stunned by my words, and I was shocked at myself too.
My mother also once told me about something that happened to her. She happened to be in her hometown, where she hadn't been for many years, and on the very first day she met a former classmate on the street. They got talking—about family and children. When her classmate heard that my mother had five children, she said sadly and wistfully that she had never married because a Gypsy woman had predicted that her husband would be a drinker.
I think she became deeply affected by it and believed it, and that if she had married, she would have expected her husband to start drinking every day—and he would eventually have become an alcoholic.
Maybe that story surfaced in my memory then, and I brushed her off so she wouldn't impose some kind of image on me. We believe bad things quickly and immediately.

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<div class="bbWrapper"><blockquote class="bbCodeBlock bbCodeBlock--expandable bbCodeBlock--quote"> <div class="bbCodeBlock-title"> <a href="/school/en/goto/post?id=3495" class="bbCodeBlock-sourceJump" data-xf-click="attribution" data-content-selector="#post-3495">Веретенников Сергей said:</a> </div> <div class="bbCodeBlock-content"> <div class="bbCodeBlock-expandContent "> I once went to a Gypsy woman. </div> <div class="bbCodeBlock-expandLink"><a>Click to expand...</a></div> </div> </blockquote>I also have a negative stereotype about Gypsies.<br /> It's one thing when you go to her yourself to have your fortune told, and quite another when they accost you at the market—and if you give in, they'll either talk you out of your money or tell you something terrible.<br /> I remember walking down a city street when a Gypsy woman approached me. She started calling out when she was still about three meters away: “Oh, come here, I'll tell you everything as it is...” I don't know where I found the courage at that moment, but I abruptly replied, “Go away, you're not going to tell me anything good.” She was stunned by my words, and I was shocked at myself too.<br /> My mother also once told me about something that happened to her. She happened to be in her hometown, where she hadn't been for many years, and on the very first day she met a former classmate on the street. They got talking—about family and children. When her classmate heard that my mother had five children, she said sadly and wistfully that she had never married because a Gypsy woman had predicted that her husband would be a drinker.<br /> I think she became deeply affected by it and believed it, and that if she had married, she would have expected her husband to start drinking every day—and he would eventually have become an alcoholic.<br /> Maybe that story surfaced in my memory then, and I brushed her off so she wouldn't impose some kind of image on me. We believe bad things quickly and immediately.</div>

 

[Веретенников Сергей]

Gypsy women have also approached me on the street with “fortune-telling.” But you have to understand that this has nothing to do with genuine fortune-telling, which some members of this people practice.
It's simply a form of begging.
Russian homeless people have also accosted me in the past. Even without any “fortune-telling.” Just: “Give me something,” and that's it.
And even Russian criminals have cornered me in an alley. Just: “Hand it over,” and that's it...
So there's no need to confuse these things.

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<div class="bbWrapper">Gypsy women have also approached me on the street with “fortune-telling.” But you have to understand that this has nothing to do with genuine fortune-telling, which some members of this people practice.<br /> It's simply a form of begging.<br /> Russian homeless people have also accosted me in the past. Even without any “fortune-telling.” Just: “Give me something,” and that's it.<br /> And even Russian criminals have cornered me in an alley. Just: “Hand it over,” and that's it...<br /> So there's no need to confuse these things.</div>

 

[230261]

Namaste. I’d like to add my two cents as well. I was a third-year student, with a summer internship in SOP (the student conductor unit), on the Kazan–Tuapse summer train. The train going there was packed to the brim (third-class sleeping cars), while the return trip was almost empty. Once, at the railway station in Krasnodar, an entire group—probably Roma—burst into my almost empty carriage. There was no point in one young student trying to stand up to the whole group. I silently watched as the Roma filled the entire carriage. Naked Roma children began crawling everywhere like little monkeys and pulling out the already folded bedding. I was in shock. The train set off, and I sat in my compartment thinking, “What am I going to do now? I probably won’t find a lot of things after they leave.” I resigned myself to my fate and sat quietly. Then a very beautiful young Roma woman, heavily pregnant, came up to me and asked for some boiling water. I quietly boiled water for them, and they happily went off to drink tea. The young Roma woman came up to me again and said, “Let me tell your fortune.” I waved her off and said I didn’t believe in it, but she took my hand anyway and told me many things. It’s a pity I didn’t remember them. She did it sincerely, probably as a gesture of gratitude because I had treated them tolerantly and hadn’t gone to complain to the conductor-in-charge, and so on.
After several stops, they all got off just as they had boarded. With my heart in my throat, I went to check my belongings. To my surprise, everything was in its place, nothing was missing, and everything was orderly.

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<div class="bbWrapper">Namaste. I’d like to add my two cents as well. I was a third-year student, with a summer internship in SOP (the student conductor unit), on the Kazan–Tuapse summer train. The train going there was packed to the brim (third-class sleeping cars), while the return trip was almost empty. Once, at the railway station in Krasnodar, an entire group—probably Roma—burst into my almost empty carriage. There was no point in one young student trying to stand up to the whole group. I silently watched as the Roma filled the entire carriage. Naked Roma children began crawling everywhere like little monkeys and pulling out the already folded bedding. I was in shock. The train set off, and I sat in my compartment thinking, “What am I going to do now? I probably won’t find a lot of things after they leave.” I resigned myself to my fate and sat quietly. Then a very beautiful young Roma woman, heavily pregnant, came up to me and asked for some boiling water. I quietly boiled water for them, and they happily went off to drink tea. The young Roma woman came up to me again and said, “Let me tell your fortune.” I waved her off and said I didn’t believe in it, but she took my hand anyway and told me many things. It’s a pity I didn’t remember them. She did it sincerely, probably as a gesture of gratitude because I had treated them tolerantly and hadn’t gone to complain to the conductor-in-charge, and so on.<br /> After several stops, they all got off just as they had boarded. With my heart in my throat, I went to check my belongings. To my surprise, everything was in its place, nothing was missing, and everything was orderly.</div>

 

[12345]

My great-grandfather was Roma. A long time ago, they were passing through a village in a caravan when he saw a beautiful girl named Maria. He stayed there, established a household, and became wealthy, but later he was dispossessed and exiled to Siberia. I never learned whether anyone in our family had been a fortune-teller, but I’ve been drawn to this since childhood. I stopped resisting it, and now I’m studying tarot and feel that this is truly my calling!

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<div class="bbWrapper">My great-grandfather was Roma. A long time ago, they were passing through a village in a caravan when he saw a beautiful girl named Maria. He stayed there, established a household, and became wealthy, but later he was dispossessed and exiled to Siberia. I never learned whether anyone in our family had been a fortune-teller, but I’ve been drawn to this since childhood. I stopped resisting it, and now I’m studying tarot and feel that this is truly my calling!</div>

 

[330]

Last year, I happened to meet a modern Roma woman, and we even kept in touch for a while. I doubt she had any outstanding mystical abilities, but she possessed one interesting quality that is not typical of women: complete fearlessness. I would feed her tomatoes and apples from my village, and in return she would open up, sharing her life experience, views, and convictions. She also looked very young: at 45, she looked 25 when she wasn’t wearing makeup.

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<div class="bbWrapper">Last year, I happened to meet a modern Roma woman, and we even kept in touch for a while. I doubt she had any outstanding mystical abilities, but she possessed one interesting quality that is not typical of women: complete fearlessness. I would feed her tomatoes and apples from my village, and in return she would open up, sharing her life experience, views, and convictions. She also looked very young: at 45, she looked 25 when she wasn’t wearing makeup.</div>

 

[00* 243]

Improvisation
On Sunday, at nine in the morning, when all the residents were at home, the concierge’s door suddenly flew open and a very large, striking Roma woman with gold teeth burst into the tiny room.

When Olga bought herself a one-room apartment, she was beside herself with happiness. It had been a small dream of hers. Renovations, all the fuss, beautiful flowerpots on the landing, miniature pictures beside the elevator. She adored her apartment, everything around it, and all the people nearby. She washed the floors on the landing, wiped the walls, and delighted in her little cozy world. Olga was very quiet and refined, and, generally speaking, in my view, even rather tongue-tied—but that was simply how she was.

The trouble began a month after she moved in. Ash and cigarette butts regularly appeared in the flowerpots. Olga put out an ashtray. The ashtray disappeared, as did two engravings beside the elevator. Someone smashed the flowerpots, and clumps of soil and flowers lay scattered across the floor.
Olga identified her neighbor, baked an apple pie, and knocked on his door. The neighbor opened it, took the apple pie, and said there was no need to lecture him because he paid for his apartment and would smoke wherever he pleased, while the flowers irritated him. Olga tried speaking to the concierge. It turned out that she was also the rude neighbor’s mother, and she stood up for her son. Conversations with the other neighbors led nowhere. Some did not care, others were friends with the concierge, and still others were never home.
Two months later, strange things began happening altogether. Someone rang Olga’s doorbell, switched off the electricity in her apartment, broke open her electrical panels, and cut through the wires.
Olga cried quietly and endured it in silence until the concierge approached her and very politely offered to buy Olga’s apartment, since she was clearly uncomfortable there anyway, and her son-neighbor was planning to get married...
Naturally, the price offered for the apartment was extremely low...

Olga told me all this in my kitchen, staring blankly and occasionally sniffling. The television, as if deliberately contradicting everything that was happening, kept exploding with laughter—there was a program about Arkady Raikin. Olga cried—the television applauded... Olga stared at one spot—the television roared with laughter... Raikin performed the sketch “...With a little knife like this...” Olga came to her senses, and we both understood what we were going to do.

Olga put the apartment up for sale. She explained to the concierge that perhaps she would find a buyer willing to pay a normal price, rather than the pennies the concierge and her son had offered. For two weeks, prospective buyers came. But some of them did not even go up to the floor! The concierge met them downstairs and told them that the building was terrible, there was no soundproofing at all, the pipes, though new, leaked constantly, the electricity was unreliable, and the neighbors were all alcoholics and drug addicts... Only one prospective buyer remained...

On Sunday, at nine in the morning, when all the residents were at home, the concierge’s door suddenly flew open and a very large, striking Roma woman with gold teeth burst into the tiny room, smoking something extremely foul-smelling without a filter and shaking ash onto the floor, the table, and everything in the path of her constantly moving hand. Beside her stood a younger pregnant Roma woman and two children. Speaking very loudly among themselves, they began demanding that the concierge... “Show us, darling, where our apartment is, quickly, quickly, come on! Kai yóne, kai yóne, miré lava ne? Dzhidé yavasa. Yame na merayasa i kuch, romale... I’m Maria, she’s Lyubasha—want me to tell your fortune? Hey, hey, hey, I’ll tell you the truth!”
There were four of them, but the noise was such that it sounded as if the entire camp had arrived. Dirty clothes, dirty hands, grubby children. As they turned around, one nimble little boy knocked a cup of tea onto the floor; papers and magazines scattered there too, while the second stepped on the shards, fell, and pulled a mattress and sheet off the couch with him. After blowing his nose into the sheet, the little one began to cry... Paying no attention whatsoever to the children, the women grabbed the dazed concierge by the arms and dragged her toward the elevator.

Olga was waiting for them on the floor. One child was taken into the apartment, while the other was entrusted to the concierge—“Hey, watch it, mama, keep an eye on him. We’ll be gone five minutes. Kai yóne, kai yóne, miré lava ne!”
In five minutes, the Roma child managed to ring every apartment doorbell, ask to pee, poop, and eat, pull toilet paper out of the concierge’s son’s apartment, tear it into tiny pieces and scatter them along the floor, bite the concierge’s hand, and begin howling like a siren... Paying no attention to any of this, the Roma women came out of Olga’s apartment and continued their conversation: “Oh, thank you, darling, may you live a hundred years! He’ll be a fine groom. Want us to find you one from the camp? Good price! Nice apartment! We’ll live here, Lyubka will live here once she gives birth. We’ll bring the father from the camp. The children like it here. Come on, Lyubka, sing along—Ay... da nai, da nai, da nai, ay... da nai, da nai. We’ll live. We won’t die, and all will be well, romale, we’ll thrive!!!...”
And the Roma polyphony, colorful skirts, scarves, bracelets, children, horses, and people whirled around the floor...

In the evening, Olga’s doorbell rang for a long time again. She decided not to open the door, but after five minutes of continuous ringing...
There were a great many people standing on the threshold—the concierge, her son, and neighbors from both upstairs and downstairs. The concierge was holding a cake and a bottle of champagne; behind her son, a palm tree in a beautiful flowerpot could be seen...

The Romen Theatre greeted us with an empty, cozy foyer. There were no performances today. The theater’s director, Maria—very beautiful and charismatic, but no longer wearing gold teeth—was radiant with joy. Her grandson Danko was drawing something in an album.
Offering us coffee, she immediately declared: “I won’t take any money from you. Your deposit is enough. For us actors, what matters?... Even a donkey can memorize a script. But improvisation... There isn’t any right now... And how we long for it!!! And my grandson—what a talent! He’s only six, and the way he acted, the way he acted! What a good boy!
It’s decided—I’m taking him into the troupe... Oh, what pleasure I’ve had! Mmmm. Improvisation! It’s wonderful!
And you girls get two complimentary tickets to our performance, although... you’ve already seen the very best one.
Kai yóne, kai yóne, miré lava ne...


Natalya Yaremchuk, illustration by Nikolai Bessonov, “Camp Dance”

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<div class="bbWrapper"><span style="font-size: 15px"><b>Improvisation</b></span><br /> On Sunday, at nine in the morning, when all the residents were at home, the concierge’s door suddenly flew open and a very large, striking Roma woman with gold teeth burst into the tiny room.<br /> <br /> <div class="lbContainer lbContainer--inline " title="1-improviz.jpg" data-xf-init="lightbox" data-lb-single-image="1" data-lb-container-zoom="1" data-lb-trigger=".js-lbImage-attachment8498" data-lb-id="attachment8498"> <div class="lbContainer-zoomer js-lbImage-attachment8498" data-src="https://youryoga.ru/school/en/attachments/1-improviz-jpg.8498/" aria-label="Zoom"></div> <img src="https://youryoga.ru/school/en/attachments/1-improviz-jpg.8498/" data-url="" class="bbImage" data-zoom-target="1" alt="1-improviz.jpg" style="" /> </div><br /> <br /> <br /> When Olga bought herself a one-room apartment, she was beside herself with happiness. It had been a small dream of hers. Renovations, all the fuss, beautiful flowerpots on the landing, miniature pictures beside the elevator. She adored her apartment, everything around it, and all the people nearby. She washed the floors on the landing, wiped the walls, and delighted in her little cozy world. Olga was very quiet and refined, and, generally speaking, in my view, even rather tongue-tied—but that was simply how she was.<br /> <br /> The trouble began a month after she moved in. Ash and cigarette butts regularly appeared in the flowerpots. Olga put out an ashtray. The ashtray disappeared, as did two engravings beside the elevator. Someone smashed the flowerpots, and clumps of soil and flowers lay scattered across the floor.<br /> Olga identified her neighbor, baked an apple pie, and knocked on his door. The neighbor opened it, took the apple pie, and said there was no need to lecture him because he paid for his apartment and would smoke wherever he pleased, while the flowers irritated him. Olga tried speaking to the concierge. It turned out that she was also the rude neighbor’s mother, and she stood up for her son. Conversations with the other neighbors led nowhere. Some did not care, others were friends with the concierge, and still others were never home.<br /> Two months later, strange things began happening altogether. Someone rang Olga’s doorbell, switched off the electricity in her apartment, broke open her electrical panels, and cut through the wires.<br /> Olga cried quietly and endured it in silence until the concierge approached her and very politely offered to buy Olga’s apartment, since she was clearly uncomfortable there anyway, and her son-neighbor was planning to get married...<br /> Naturally, the price offered for the apartment was extremely low...<br /> <br /> Olga told me all this in my kitchen, staring blankly and occasionally sniffling. The television, as if deliberately contradicting everything that was happening, kept exploding with laughter—there was a program about Arkady Raikin. Olga cried—the television applauded... Olga stared at one spot—the television roared with laughter... Raikin performed the sketch “...With a little knife like this...” Olga came to her senses, and we both understood what we were going to do.<br /> <br /> Olga put the apartment up for sale. She explained to the concierge that perhaps she would find a buyer willing to pay a normal price, rather than the pennies the concierge and her son had offered. For two weeks, prospective buyers came. But some of them did not even go up to the floor! The concierge met them downstairs and told them that the building was terrible, there was no soundproofing at all, the pipes, though new, leaked constantly, the electricity was unreliable, and the neighbors were all alcoholics and drug addicts... Only one prospective buyer remained...<br /> <br /> On Sunday, at nine in the morning, when all the residents were at home, the concierge’s door suddenly flew open and a very large, striking Roma woman with gold teeth burst into the tiny room, smoking something extremely foul-smelling without a filter and shaking ash onto the floor, the table, and everything in the path of her constantly moving hand. Beside her stood a younger pregnant Roma woman and two children. Speaking very loudly among themselves, they began demanding that the concierge... “Show us, darling, where our apartment is, quickly, quickly, come on! Kai yóne, kai yóne, miré lava ne? Dzhidé yavasa. Yame na merayasa i kuch, romale... I’m Maria, she’s Lyubasha—want me to tell your fortune? Hey, hey, hey, I’ll tell you the truth!”<br /> There were four of them, but the noise was such that it sounded as if the entire camp had arrived. Dirty clothes, dirty hands, grubby children. As they turned around, one nimble little boy knocked a cup of tea onto the floor; papers and magazines scattered there too, while the second stepped on the shards, fell, and pulled a mattress and sheet off the couch with him. After blowing his nose into the sheet, the little one began to cry... Paying no attention whatsoever to the children, the women grabbed the dazed concierge by the arms and dragged her toward the elevator.<br /> <br /> Olga was waiting for them on the floor. One child was taken into the apartment, while the other was entrusted to the concierge—“Hey, watch it, mama, keep an eye on him. We’ll be gone five minutes. Kai yóne, kai yóne, miré lava ne!”<br /> In five minutes, the Roma child managed to ring every apartment doorbell, ask to pee, poop, and eat, pull toilet paper out of the concierge’s son’s apartment, tear it into tiny pieces and scatter them along the floor, bite the concierge’s hand, and begin howling like a siren... Paying no attention to any of this, the Roma women came out of Olga’s apartment and continued their conversation: “Oh, thank you, darling, may you live a hundred years! He’ll be a fine groom. Want us to find you one from the camp? Good price! Nice apartment! We’ll live here, Lyubka will live here once she gives birth. We’ll bring the father from the camp. The children like it here. Come on, Lyubka, sing along—Ay... da nai, da nai, da nai, ay... da nai, da nai. We’ll live. We won’t die, and all will be well, romale, we’ll thrive!!!...”<br /> And the Roma polyphony, colorful skirts, scarves, bracelets, children, horses, and people whirled around the floor...<br /> <br /> In the evening, Olga’s doorbell rang for a long time again. She decided not to open the door, but after five minutes of continuous ringing...<br /> There were a great many people standing on the threshold—the concierge, her son, and neighbors from both upstairs and downstairs. The concierge was holding a cake and a bottle of champagne; behind her son, a palm tree in a beautiful flowerpot could be seen...<br /> <br /> The Romen Theatre greeted us with an empty, cozy foyer. There were no performances today. The theater’s director, Maria—very beautiful and charismatic, but no longer wearing gold teeth—was radiant with joy. Her grandson Danko was drawing something in an album.<br /> Offering us coffee, she immediately declared: “I won’t take any money from you. Your deposit is enough. For us actors, what matters?... Even a donkey can memorize a script. But improvisation... There isn’t any right now... And how we long for it!!! And my grandson—what a talent! He’s only six, and the way he acted, the way he acted! What a good boy!<br /> It’s decided—I’m taking him into the troupe... Oh, what pleasure I’ve had! Mmmm. Improvisation! It’s wonderful!<br /> And you girls get two complimentary tickets to our performance, although... you’ve already seen the very best one.<br /> Kai yóne, kai yóne, miré lava ne...<br /> <br /> <br /> <i>Natalya Yaremchuk, illustration by Nikolai Bessonov, “Camp Dance”</i></div>

 

[Веретенников Сергей]

Western scientists from France have created a contact lens containing nanoparticles made from rare-earth elements — erbium and ytterbium. These elements:

• Absorb infrared radiation.
• Transfer energy to each other.
• Convert it into visible light, allowing a person to see infrared objects without a camera or glasses.

What is it needed for?

• Invisible communication using infrared signals.
• Military and special operations: seeing the enemy while remaining invisible.
• Finding your way in the dark — with an IR flashlight invisible to others.

In simple terms:

A contact lens with nanoparticles seems to “translate” the language of infrared light into the language of visible light — so you can see what is normally hidden. It is like night vision — but in the form of an ordinary lens, without electronics.

All that is required is to insert the lens into your eye, like an ordinary prescription lens.

🔊 Listen ⏹ Stop 🌐 Choose language

<div class="bbWrapper">Western scientists from France have created a <b>contact lens</b> containing <b>nanoparticles made from rare-earth elements</b> — <b>erbium and ytterbium</b>. These elements:<br /> <ul> <li data-xf-list-type="ul">Absorb infrared radiation.</li> <li data-xf-list-type="ul">Transfer energy to each other.</li> <li data-xf-list-type="ul">Convert it into visible light, allowing a person to see <b>infrared objects</b> without a camera or glasses.</li> </ul><span style="font-size: 18px"><b><img class="smilie smilie--emoji" alt="📱" title="Mobile phone :iphone:" src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/gh/joypixels/emoji-assets@5.0/png/64/1f4f1.png" data-shortname=":iphone:" /> What is it needed for?</b></span><br /> <ul> <li data-xf-list-type="ul"><b>Invisible communication</b> using infrared signals.</li> <li data-xf-list-type="ul"><b>Military and special operations</b>: seeing the enemy while remaining invisible.</li> <li data-xf-list-type="ul"><b>Finding your way in the dark</b> — with an IR flashlight invisible to others.</li> </ul><span style="font-size: 18px"><b><img class="smilie smilie--emoji" alt="🧙" title="Mage :mage:" src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/gh/joypixels/emoji-assets@5.0/png/64/1f9d9.png" data-shortname=":mage:" /> In simple terms:</b></span><br /> <br /> A contact lens with nanoparticles seems to “translate” the language of <b>infrared light</b> into the language of <b>visible light</b> — so you can see what is normally hidden. It is like night vision — but in the form of an ordinary lens, without electronics.<br /> <br /> All that is required is to insert the lens into your eye, like an ordinary prescription lens.</div>

 

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Веретенников Сергей , I wonder when this miracle lens will go on sale?
I would buy one like that

🔊 Listen ⏹ Stop 🌐 Choose language

<div class="bbWrapper"><style> .avatar--xss { width: 21px; height: 21px; line-height: 21px !important; margin-right: 2px; } </style> <span> <a href="/school/en/members/veretennikov-sergej.1/" class="avatar avatar--xss" data-user-id="1" data-xf-init="member-tooltip"> <img src="/school/data/avatars/s/0/1.jpg?1704448620" alt="Веретенников Сергей" class="avatar-u1-s" /> </a> <a href="https://youryoga.ru/school/en/members/1/" class="username" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" data-user-id="1" data-username="@Веретенников Сергей">Веретенников Сергей</a> </span>, I wonder when this miracle lens will go on sale?<br /> I would buy one like that <img class="smilie smilie--emoji" alt="🧐" title="Face with monocle :face_with_monocle:" src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/gh/joypixels/emoji-assets@5.0/png/64/1f9d0.png" data-shortname=":face_with_monocle:" /></div>