The holy cave

Many people in orange Nagol'na sheepskins. Blue-eyed Russian faces. Not far from the village - Ignatovskaya cave. Believers consider the cave sacred place. Lived there at one time the elder Ignat. He died, and the corpse of death was not touched (assume saturated with lime water). So showed up St. Ignatius. In the patron saint celebrations in the cave served as a prayer service. Hung in her icon, standing boiler with "holy water" - "tears of an old man" - and a stone cross on the grave of the hermit (he is buried in the cave). The lobby is decorated with magnificent caves than in the dry Ata. Seems to walk into the chamber of the "Mistress of Copper Mountain." On the ceiling of a huge diamond flowers - giant ice crystals. Beautiful I saw nothing. Fragile flowers from a fairy tale, they are not sorvesh not unesesh - they fall apart, just tronesh in icy dust. The cave is suitable for habitation. It does not need to crawl on your stomach - you walk with head erect. Dry, soft carpet of dust. Year-round, plus nine degrees. Only on the second floor, where the climb up the log, vlazhyo. No cross, no icons are not seen, everything is possible concealed collapse. But surely there someone lived. Lay poluistlevshie logs, painted boards and bricks. In the evening, danced in a local village club. Some special mood sadly, when Will you come unexpectedly to the tune of a waltz, and you know that tomorrow you will not be here. I was a little bit in love with how you can fall in love with a waltz, in the evening. He did not say a word this girl, she. Just come to her and we danced. Girl with a blush of embarrassment, in thin braids blue ribbons, hot broad palm. After dancing, climbing into our sleeping bags for a long time could not sleep. We talked about love. Everyone remembered something gentle and talked a little rough, a little sarcastically.