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Папа

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's a musician.
He's a violinist.
He can't be without an arm.
Can others be without it?
Others can't be without it either.
But he's different.
Let me watch the dynamic.
Only a day.
Not a single day.
He can die here!
An arm, a musician. Wake up!
I can't!
-Why?
- I love him.
We'll cross the bridge,
then the forest, then Sosnovka...
What is he talking about?
He's remembering.
We're passing his homeland.
We'll cross the bridge,
then the forest, then Sosnovka...
Calm down, Odintsov.
It's not Sosnovka yet, my dear.
I smell mint.
I smell it very much.
- Stop the train.
- Calm down.
- Let me go out.
- Calm down.
Stop the train!
Bear it, Odintsov.
- Let me go out!
- Have patience, my dear.
Nadia!
Easy, easy.
- Hold him.
- Calm down, my dear.
It will be better soon.
Everything's fine.
Water. Water.
Water.
Water.
Ludmila, is that you?
No, Dodik, it's me.
Dad.
Hello, my dear.
You're alive, dad.
No, I was killed.
A year ago.
I thought you knew about it.
Yes, I knew.
But I can see you.
You seem to me, don't you?
Something always seems to someone.
When we were brought to the station
it seemed to me
that I was there to meet your train.
How was that, dad?
Let's talk about something else.
I've got to know.
It was simply.
Once, there were many announcements
in our ghetto.
That we would be sent
to Poland to live there.
That at 11am on Sunday we must
come to the station with our belongings.
Did you understand everything?
Of course.
But there were some of us who believed.
On Sunday we were
at the exit from our ghetto.
Germans counted us
and guided us.
Meier Wolf was
with me at the column.
Do you remember my Meier, David?
Of course I do, dad.
So we were going.
There were only we
and Germans on the street.
Nobody was standing at the roadside
and nobody watched us leaving.
And you know, that was a good thing.
Why?
You know, I knew almost everybody.
And I didn't want my friends
turn around when they see me.
And didn't want them hide their eyes.
We came to the station.
We were counted again
and ordered to give them our things.
I didn't take anything.
Only your old violin.
And my album with postcards.
Next.
Next.
Next.
What was next?
That's it, my dear.
I didn't have anything "next".
Then your life starts.
- Did you come?
-Yes, we did, dad.
After a week of frightful fights
we forced Tulchin.
But I didn't recognize it.
Didn't recognize
the sky, the streets, the houses.
Because there was nothing to recognize.
Then I thought,
maybe that wasn't Tulchin.
Maybe that was another town.
But when my company
came to the station,
I recognized this stone wall.
And I remembered Meier.
Half of his life he was saving money
to see the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem.
But I saw this wall at our place.
A simple stone wall,
where we were playing football at.
And in the evenings
we were watching the trains.
What was next, David?
Next?
I was shell-shocked and wounded, dad.
- Forgive me, dad.
- For what?
Forth day when you came to Moscow.
I've forgotten about it already.
But I remember.
I remember it very well, dad.
And the worst is that I will never
perform at the Conservatory.
Forgive me, daddy!
Your dream will not come true!
You're stupid.
It did come true.
It doesn't matter
who will perform at the Conservatory.
You or your little son.
He will be proud of you.
He'll tell people:
"My father did that I am right now.
My father, a person
who has honors."
Maybe something that
I'm going to say is stupid,
but I think that is
the motherland you are fighting for.
Isn't it?
Yes, it is, dad.
By the way, I have one question to ask.
One day three postcards
disappeared from my album.
You told me you hadn't taken them.
I lied to you.
I took them.
I hope it will never happen again.
Lie is the most terrible thing for me.
Maybe because I lied
too much in my life.
- I gotta go.
-Are you leaving?
I gotta go.
Dad.
- Maybe you'll see me
Папа Папа

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