Unexpectedly plus, are you here, how many photos on the background of mr. Kazakovs phone . In the hospital they barely managed to save him. It will be very difficult to prove that it is because of the drug. I am telling you this as a senior researcher. Yes zinaida afanasyevna, you are accused of murder. In the course of a forensic medical examination, it was found that traces of the blood of the murdered Mikhail Kazakov were found on the darkcolored Circuit Board of zinaid afanasyev, who was taken from the apartment, the dna analysis is not yet ready, but i am sure that it will be positive. I dont know, i bear. But i recommend that you consider your confession. I came to larion. He had to return. I wanted to meet him. Larion and i were going to apply to the registry office. Im all for this case. Passport does not give the woman says calmly. I kazakov Mikhail Illarionovich came to my father. And who are you, mother . So smiles. In vain they etched kazakov, counting on the inheritance, a
This should be accurately brought to the attention of russian society, so that everyone here knows. We have nothing to say to them, little to them the law says its forbidden to talk to us at all. Lets try and not only that the americans simulate the check yes , the americans will be told that we want we wrote all our wishes in december 21 negotiations. What should they perform . No about everything, then, yes . Let me end it like this. What is it, lets, then we will not only talk about what the americans said about politics and how the models model the situation, but what interest do we have in this simple december of the twentyfirst year, everything is formulated, we took all the infrastructure nato and out of here on the border of the ninety eighth year, then it was formulated clearly and clearly. Then we will assume that there are probably people in ukraine who should advance this agenda. And why do we need people in ukraine who should make this trip happen . Well, anyway, we need t
English By Charles Maynes Share on Facebook Print this page
One morning in late November, my sense of smell suddenly disappeared. Soon my muscles ached and I developed a headache that resembled a spike dancing on my head.
It took a few days before tests confirmed what was already obvious to me: I had contracted the coronavirus.
After unsuccessfully convalescing at home for the better part of a week, city paramedics came to my Moscow apartment and insisted I was overdue for a CT scan of my lungs.
The ambulance brought me to a nearby clinic retrofitted for assessing coronavirus patients. Medics in now standard PPE “spacesuits” manned a cavernous reception area full of worn-out benches with scattered X’s taped to them to encourage social distancing.