I have already began telling you about Masha. She was my friend in year one. She is very smart, and read a lot. She was short, like me. Even shorter than me. This seemed to be pretty hard.

She helped introduce me to her world. Which later became my world. The world of books. We would walk together to the library to borrow something, or to return something. I was a little nervous to go to the library myself because the school was very big.

The high school and the primary school where I lived are connected. There wasn’t enough room at the primary school for our class, not even with two shifts of school- one in the morning and one in the afternoon. So, they moved our class to the big school. And the school was pretty big. The high school kids didn’t bother us, but I was still too nervous to walk to the library by myself in such a large area. I was afraid I’d get lost, because the stairs were pretty confusing, going up and down. Sometimes I have that dilemma in my dreams which probably originated from this, where the stairs are going up and down at the same time - which doesn’t make any physical sense, but it does in dreams- and I cant get anywhere. But Masha would help me find the way.

It is amazing how much the little thing a teacher provide become strong memories, things that have made you who you are now. The way our teacher let us hang up our coats with hers each morning. To accept us, to treat us as friends. It is the sort of things that stays with you as the years go by.

Masha was shy yet comforting. She helped m settle into a strange world by bonding on one we both understood. My Mum always wanted me to have plenty of books. It was hard to find some in English, because there weren’t any at the library. But there were plenty in Russian. Reading is a good way to learn more of a language. Second to speaking and listening. And copying. That doesn’t make it second. But it is still pretty important, because it allows you to go as slow as you please return to a new word easily, and skip stuff without it really mattering.

I remember reading this book called Цветик-Семицветик- Svetik-semisvetik, which means the lower with seven petals. It was a story about this girl that found a magical flower that had one petal for each wish. It was so well known; you would ask what you would wish for if you found this flower.  Well this girl keeps making wishes which are selfish and a little wasted such as fixing a broken vase or getting some баранки- baranki. They are these donut-shaped biscuit texture things which are slightly salty and take a while to chew. They have a polished coating of butter. You have them with tea. Well, that is how I remember it. Then one day she met this boy who had a broken leg and was limping along, and she made the first wish that wasn’t ridiculous- for him to be better. Then the flower grew back. I think she planted another one because she used a wish for good or something along the lines of that. It’s difficult to remember a book you read a long time ago.

I seemed to take longer to read this book, but I think it fascinated me back then because, well, power is fascinating. I felt pressured to finish it because the librarian was really proud of me for reading. I don’t like this type of magic, so I made a compromise – I read the book, but I always skipped over the spell. I wish I’ read another book, but with a lack of communication or just an overall shyness I wasn’t ready to tell the librarian I wasn’t interested. Because I was. It’s complicated. Oh well.

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