Remember those chapters where I introduce characters that I will explore further? Well, this is a single chapter exploring Maxim and Vladimir. This happens between:

1948
Maxim was born this year.
Vladimir was seven years old.

1955
Maxim was seven years old.
Vladimir was fourteen years old.

1956
By this time they are already living in Russia. If you don't remember what happened, feel free to take a look at the first chapter: colours. I recommend it especially for the better wave of feelings of this chapter since I make some references, but in a resume of what I want you to remember:

"Do you want to play vampir?"

It was a game they created where one of them pretends to be a vampire and the others pretend to be a victim running from the vampire. The vampire can't touch the light while chasing and the other has to leave a mark with blood, or red ink, every corner they go. They usually play this in their grandparents' cheap flat all day until one of them catches the other. Usually, Vladimir would hold his little brother in his arms and bite softly his neck while Maxim exploded in laughter. Maxim couldn't reach his older brother's neck, so he asked him to bend and then he will hug his brother and bite him. Vladimir always pretends he is suffering, but the child knew he was lying. His brother was stronger than anything.

1957
This year they are already on Karlag.

* •

Moldova
April 13th
1948

It was fifteen past six when his brother opened his eyes. Vladimir was holding the small baby in his arms for hours, or minutes, whilst his mother was trying to stay alive after the bleeding. They were extremely poor, but his father grabbed every dime in an attempt to give his mother a nice hospital. He found nothing in Romania, but they were accepted in a charity organization in Moldova. They wanted to have a second baby in a healthier place since his mother was having a difficult pregnancy; different from Vladimir himself who was born in a shack in December seven years ago without any accompaniment. They were afraid about losing the newborn, nonetheless, his nameless brother was alive. His mother was striving to be alive in that room and he could only wait and hold the new infant.

He embraced his brother when the baby started to weep and make cute noises. He was extremely small and adorable. Vlad was delighted about the idea of having a brother so he wondered if the expectation was going to crash before his eyes when the baby was born. He was wrong. He was loving everything about holding that little thing. Even if he felt he doesn't have the right to do it since that little thing belonged to his mother, right?

Vladimir was startled when he noticed his father out of the room looking pale and wearing a bloodstained shirt. When Vladimir grows up enough to think about that scene as a past, he will always see the blood with too much focus and scrawled lines in front of his dad's smile; he didn't remember the last time he will smile before becoming bitter and miserable. Sometimes, Vlad forgets his father's face.

"Come here, son." He ordered in an empirical and happy voice. "Your mother is fine for now and wants to see her two children."

He swallowed his saliva before getting ready to enter the white room. Vladimir held his silent brother closer to his chest and lifted both bodies. The baby was quiet as if he knew he was going to disturb the woman if he starts to make noises again. As for the older brother, he was uncomfortable with all that underprivileged white and strange environment of the corridor and now he was uncomfortable for more justifications. The child holding the baby entered the room with a woman completely exhausted on a bed. He looked whilst a nurse was cleaning bloodstained sheets in a sink in the room and another one was cleaning the bloody floor. There wouldn't be any scrawled lines in front of the blood. He will remember it very well.

Vlad's mother looked dead when he focused on her.

"Vladimir..." She greeted firmly as a salute. She wanted to appear strong, nonetheless, her arms were dissipated on the bed as if she wasn't prepared to move them and something Vlad couldn't understand was putting blood on her veins. Her lips were as white as the room and there was still dried blood on her underbelly. "How is Maxim?"

Was she dead? Why the skin under her eyes was black?

Vlad felt sick.

His father placed a big and scratched hand on his shoulder.

"Answer your mother." He instructed legitimately. "She has been through hell to stay alive and the least you can do is speak more than your daily two sentences."

Vlad felt bad about that statement. He used to speak rarely because he always gets tangled in words like ropes and ends up making people laugh.

"H-he keeps his t-tongue out of his m-mouth for s-some r-reason. I-it's cute."

His mother blinked carefully and sighed with exhaustion. She was alive, but she seemed cold and distant. She has always been harsh with him, however, she was the example of fairness. Sometimes Vlad would compare her to the scene of a woman holding a scales.

"What have we discussed? Imagine a straight string in your head. The concentration on the words you say will keep it straight. Focus on it without distraction while you are talking."

He imagined the red line in his mind and swallowed the saliva forming in his mouth. He focused on it like she ordered and it almost harmed to obey. He tried to speak more slowly while every eye on the room was focused on him.

"He keeps his tongue out of his mouth for some reason. It's cute."

"Very good, Vlad." She affirmed without looking at him. "Take care of Maxim for your mom while I'm weak like this, would you? He is too special for you to treat him like your toys. He is part of your life now."

He swallowed his saliva. The nurses were staring and his father wasn't there anymore. The only thing he focused was the rosy tongue out of baby's little mouth and he was calmer than before.

"Is he?"

"Yes. You might not know it now, however, I know you and I know you are going to love him more than yourself or anything. You need to be strong to take care of him if I'm right. But while I'm this way, take care of him." She clarified and glared at the nurses. "I don't trust people that are not from our blood."

They seem to have plenty of your blood.

Vlad shivered. His father wasn't there anymore, the nurses were glaring at his mother and she was failing to stay awake. Where was his father? There were scratched lines in his face when he was trying to remember. What was his name again? More scratched lines.

"You didn't hold your baby yet. Don't you wanna hold him?" A nurse consulted looking at Vladimir with a frown. "A woman should take care of her son, not land it on the hands of a child."

"Indeed." Vlad's mother answered and closed her brown eyes. He didn't remember another thing besides those judgemental brown gaze. "But I'm human before I'm a woman and I'm exhausted..."

She slept. Or she died. Vlad didn't know that hour, so he focused on the baby on his arms. He hasn't spoken a word to his brother yet, but now he wanted to impress the little thing. That thing belonged to him for a while. Vlad kissed his forehead and promised to treat him better than his wooden toys. He saw the sides of Maxim's lips stretching as a smile and he opened his eyes. They were dark blue and they were happily gazing at the child. Vlad smiled back at him.

"H-hello." He saluted because he didn't know what else to say. He focused on the string in his mind. He needed to make a good presentation in front of that small thing. "I'm Vladimir Popescu. You can call Vlad if you want, but don't call me Dim. Only the ladies call me that. You are not a lady, are you?"

Maxim showed his tongue more proudly, blinked slightly and smiled. His mother said he was going to love him eventually, but Vladimir was already falling in affection with that baby in his arms.

"You can call me big brother. I'm much bigger than you. And I'm your brother."

His cheeks were big. His eyes were big. Big things in his body were limited. The baby yawned and closed his eyes. He was already wishing for the next time Maxim opened his eyes.

"You are too tiny! Was I this small?"

"Yes, you were." A nurse answered approximating Vlad and Maxim. He stepped back from her. "Now, dear, give me the baby so I can take care of him for your mother while she is sleeping."

That was the first time Vladimir felt a deep need for protection over Maxim crawling through his desires. It matched a heat mixed with hunger and he wasn't satisfied until he wasn't looking at his brother safe and sound on his arms.

He held the baby tight to his chest.

"I-I can h-hold him f-for now."

•

Romania
April 2nd
1955

Vladimir looked at the mirror in the bathroom whilst Maxim was playing with toys on the floor. The Romanian always had the beauty of someone that doesn't have the necessity of exhibiting that. His cherry hair and sharp smile have always been natural and they were the only thing he can display to the world. He was fifteen years old when he learned that beauty is something important.

"She is prettier than me. I should have taken more care of my appearance during the years." His mother mumbled on the day his father left with another woman. "I should have had only one child."

When his mother said those words about beauty and Maxim, Vladimir was outraged. Something miserable and bitter crawled into his mother's mind and she became a remote image of who she was. It wasn't her fault to lost herself after losing her third child, but it wasn't Maxim's or his. That sentence was a shot in the dark when her husband left and asked to take, at least, Maxim with him. She refused and sent the man away for good as if he was a complete monster for falling for another woman. But a month after they were alone she says it's her fault. Vlad's mother was proud in front of the ones that break her, even if she says it was her weakness behind them.

Her marriage was falling apart after Maxim's birth and the beginning of the unhappiness. It got worse when they lost Mărgărita in 1954. Vladimir remembers the familiar blood when his sister was being born in the hospital and Maxim was a small feature of a person sitting on his lap. Vlad held him all night while Max was holding his older brother's finger and asking why did their mother swallow the baby. Their father was excited about the new baby next to them. They all were. Especially their mother. It was the first time since Maxim's birth she was smiling instead of shutting her mouth and looking fixed. Vlad used to look at her and think that she was dead after she slept that day in Moldova. Now she was living again, only to lose her baby and the happiness she was enjoying. That day she said other words that stayed with Vlad.

"I should have known. I shouldn't be hopeful."

Somehow, Vladimir was the closest person that woman had all her life. She would say the horrible things her mind was dealing with only to him as if he wasn't a simple child. And he had the same freedom to do with her, but he was irate with his mother at that intimate moment. His anger was detrimental because she was distant from Maxim and she didn't seem to love him enough. Vlad was also irritated because he blames his mother for losing Mărgărita to more blood. If she would have told she was dealing with tons of pain instead of keeping quiet, conceivably his sister would have been born alive. But, perhaps he is angry with the world. He shouldn't blame a mother to lose her child. That day in the summer he thought to himself that mothers shouldn't live more than their children; there should be a natural law for that. He was angry with himself because he cried for days every time he thought about his little sister. He misses someone who never breathed. He misses Mărgărita more than he misses his mother's love toward Maxim and his father.

"Big brother?" He heard the acute voice saying with care and a sporadic Romanian. Maxim held the fabric of the sink in the bathroom and pressed his little fingers in the worn granite. "I want to see the mirror just like you."

Vlad smiled.

"You are a vampire." He joked with a teasing voice. "You can't see yourself in the mirror."

Maxim started to throw a tantrum about innocence in vampirism. Vlad laughed, held his waist and lifted his small brother.

"Look how ugly you are. And heavy. Soon I won't be able to carry you."

"I am growing and you can't accept I am going to grow taller than you." He affirmed and crossed his arms. "And I'm not ugly. You are ugly!"

"Am I?" He interrogated looking at the mirror with narrowed eyes. "I can't see myself. Perhaps, I am a vampire!"

"Stay away from me, then!"

Vladimir laughed more when Maxim placed a hand on his cheek and pushed his face far away. He hugged his baby brother and watched him fighting. He held him tighter than he was performing because he sensed their peace was ending. At any moment, the horizon of pride and bitterness will materialize and he would have to deal with his mother.

"Big brother?"

"Yes?"

"Who can I ask to lift me when you are at school? I wanted to reach the high shelf to grab something shiny, but you weren't here." Max interrogated messing with a string from his brother's coat. He used to ask thousand of questions per day. "I want to go to school soon. How is school? Can I have pencils? Mom doesn't allow me to use pencils because they are sharp. Are we going to stay in the same place at school?"

Vlad expressed his emotions caressing his brother's flat hair with strands and wandering through his mind. He knew his mother was going to appear anytime soon since she wanted to talk to him. She was keeping more quiet than normal those days.

"Trust someone who is willing to lift you." He clarified. His muscles were complaining about the weight, but it was sad to imagine a day he won't be able to carry Maxim. Sometimes Vladimir would fear his brother getting older because he wouldn't be able to be the person who takes care of him. He would be just a brother. But seeing Maxim happy because he can reach a shelf was amazing and he was happy to see him growing even if it means he is going to leave someday. "We are going to stay in distinct classrooms, but I'm sure you will make lots of friends and..."

Someone cleared throat next to them.

Maxim looked at his mother walking away and Vladimir sensed his sadness and confusion over the freezing temperament. Vlad placed Max on the ground of the bathroom with care. He placed a hand of his adorned hair like he was never trained to be separated from him.

"Stay here."

"Can I come? I want to ask mom how pencils are made."

"I can tell you after this." He promised with a smile. "Play with your toys, okay?"

One thing extraordinary about Maxim is that he knew how to read the ambient; similar to the day he was born when he was quiet while entering the bloody room. He agreed and kept playing on the ground.

Vlad accompanied the woman.

That night she told him she arranged a job in Sofia and the job was going to pay for everything they needed without a problem. She was going to stay in the house of a familiar and everything was going to work out. No more poverty and famine. Nevertheless, the working hours were slightly cruel and she was going to send him and Maxim to live in Moscow with their grandparents.

"B-but I love Romania. T-this is m-my home." He asked in a low plea. "I-i only saw grandpa a-and g-grandma once in m-my whole l-life. I-i..."

She glared at him and he could sense the red string on his mind slithering to his neck. Somehow his mother was both a safe place and a dangerous situation.

"I can take care of Maxim here in Romania. I have always been a good brother. I put him to sleep; I feed him; I love him more than I love myself. And I love Romania. Let me stay here. I'm almost old enough to take care of myself and I can take care of him too."

Ever since Maxim was born, he was a difficult child to take care of. He didn't want milk from his mother, he used to cry all night and he was always getting sick over nothing. The same way his mother was too stubborn to die when Maxim was born, he was too stubborn to die from all these bad things. However, his mother wasn't caring for her baby the same way since she was depressed all the time. His father said something about being a man and he spent his days not taking care of his son. So the person who looked out for the baby was Vladimir. He used to stay awake all night trying to console the baby, sleep holding his tiny body, feed him with the little food they had and play with him all day. Maxim even called him "papa" one day. Vlad remembers he used to spend hours watching his brother move his baby legs while he was laying on the mattress they shared. He used to talk about everything and anything while he comforted Maxim's wails and perhaps this was the training he needed to overcome the difficulties to talk. Vladimir was the one that answers his multiple questions and the one that taught him how to walk, speak and think. He was the one making two strands on his hair every morning and choosing his clothes for the day.

That child was basically his.

"I shouldn't have put this responsibility on you since the beginning, but now it's too late." She said with a regretful state, but somehow there was guilt. "You are going to Moscow far from this deprivation. My parents have enough to eat most days, unlike us. We can arrange Maxim's education in Russian instead of Romanian since it's a language so vastly spoken. There are better schools there for him and for you too. All for free. You can choose a profession and meet new people aside from this country."

"You don't really believe in that, do you?"

She stopped.

"What do you want to do with your life, Vladimir? Aside from taking care of your brother, of course."

He swallowed his saliva. Vlad's life has turned around Maxim since he was seven years old so he didn't have any expectations besides taking care of his brother. What is he going to want when Maxim can take care of himself?

"Stay with Maxim."

The woman sighed.

"You are going to Russia and that is final." She decreed and Vlad comprehended he would obey. "I will send a monthly payment for your needs and I want you to try to find something else to dedicate your life."

Vladimir wanted to say he only needed her, but he couldn't understand what missing her felt like. It was a common feeling. That woman was rough and steady like a stone of a riverbed. He wasn't able to see her smiling in his memory since scratched lines were blocking his vision like a wall.

She was starting to walk away.

"Why don't you love Maxim?" Vladimir interrogated before he could control himself. "He is perfect. His eyes were blue when he was a baby, but now they are amber. He hates to see someone living on the street and asks if we can share our mattress with them. He likes to lay down and think whilst looking at the ceiling, but he also moves his legs without noticing. He feels bad about eating meat, but I force him because there is nothing left to eat and I hate myself for it. He used to be afraid of goats. His favourite type of music is anything that the singer's voice has emotion and he doesn't realize this portrayal because he is a little oblivious about himself. Those are just things I notice about the most amazing thing you gave me. Why don't you love him as I do?"

His mother stopped and he regretted those words immediately. Vlad saw something heavy on her shoulders.

"Because I'm a human before I'm a mother." She affirmed with a cold glare on her son. Vladimir will always remember that moment because every time he tried to remember it, he can't remember his mother's face. Like his father's smile, her face was wrapped with scratches. Her smiles were gone, but now even her frowned glare was a mixture of strings. Even his old house was filled with scratches. He couldn't remember anything. Everything was shattering and he didn't remember her silhouette when she finished the last talk they had. "Put your brother to sleep. He sleeps better with you."

If she was going to give that statement to comfort the fact she couldn't love her baby, he could do nothing about it. Vlad wondered if she wanted to marry and have that life after all, but his mother was always distant and closed to any emotional interaction or a past description; even with Vladimir who was the person hearing her monologue after everything is settled. He didn't know her roots or her dreams. Does he remember her name? It's just scrawled on his memory.

He came back to the bathroom to see Maxim smiling at a butterfly flying around him. That moment, Vladimir decided he was a brother before he was a human.

•

Russia
February 4th
1956

Russia was freezing most of the time, so Vlad liked the weather. He loved when it was snowing and the wind was cutting his pale skin. He spent most days playing with Maxim in the yard of his grandparents and avoiding the other kids of the Khrushchyovka. At the moment they were tired of the snow and sitting on the stairs of the apartment. They were resting after a snowball war and Maxim was shaking with the cold of February. Vladimir hugged him and tried to warm his arms with fast movements.

"Brother, can we play vampir?"

"We don't have any red ink."

"Can we play Oină?"

"I'm tired, Max." He affirmed petting his brown head. "You are annoying."

"Then what can we do?"

"Anything I don't have to move."

"What about singing?"

"Your voice is terrible!"

"You are boring!"

Vladimir chuckled with his brother crossing his arms, but still hanging on his lap.

"We can talk if you want." He proposed to the child. "Ask me anything and I shall answer you the truth and nothing but the truth."

Maxim seemed interested since he was probably the most curious child on the whole planet. He was also the only boy who likes to wear his hair in a style featuring two strands pushed out on either side of his head. He used to be called a girl sometimes, but he wasn't bothered by that.

"I like that." He answered with a playful smile. "Can I start?"

"You can have all the questions."

He celebrated with his hands clapping and his eyes glowing.

"Why can't we have food every day?"

Vlad's smile disappeared.

"Because we don't have money to buy it or land to produce it." He responded with a low voice. "We need resources to do everything in the world, but people are made of greed."

"Doesn't the world have enough resources for everyone?" He asked and made a big round figure on the air. "It's so big!"

"It does, but for specific types of people. And we are not this kind of people. We are the kind of people who could never reach the basic."

He stopped and stared at his brother.

"What do you mean?"

"We were part of a minority before dad changed everything to save us, grandpa and grandma. We couldn't rebuild much after this." He replied with a metallic taste on his tongue. "Most places don't like us normally, but a few years ago it was much worse."

"Why most places don't like us?"

"We are different." Vlad answered remembering how his family changed its own lifestyle, country and name to try to regain a new life and maintain the old one. He doesn't even remember the name he used to have before the war erupted and took away everything he knew. It's merely scratched. The same scratches that circle the old oak tree in front of thousands of improvised houses by a river. He remembers moving around with people he used to call family, but everything was touched by scratches. If they stayed with those people, perhaps everything would be different. He would be able to say he is part of the Romani people without fearing for his life. "And people fear differences."

The stories he never knew were written in his DNA while the world ignored that suffering. Vlad wondered if they think that never mention the problem is going to make it disappears.

"That is sad." Maxim replied. "What is the saddest thing you have ever heard, brother?"

He wondered through the things he heard. There were times he heard people saying horrible things without a reason, but those weren't sad. Those things were infuriating. Maxim needed something that messed with Vladimir's happiness in a level it would never be as pure as before. He couldn't pick anything from their mother. It would be too destroying and those sentences of pain were his liability to deal with. He decided to think about someone he hadn't seen in years.

"One time, I was in a funeral in torn of a flame burning things. I was totally little that time, but I noticed everybody was sad about a woman. I think she was dad's family, but I never asked." Vlad explained. In that time, he thought that they wouldn't answer anyway. His parents have always been distant from feelings, especially his mother. He wondered if his father wanted to let out his emotions more, nevertheless, he had always kept inside. "And every year our parents used to burn old newspapers to remember this woman; even when we left our community, we still did something on her death's day and dad used to cry all night. Our mother never allowed him to cry without her criticism. She used to say tears are for the vulnerable. Nevertheless, every time our father said the same thing to the flames with tears. 'How long are a thousand years? Every day without you'. This is the saddest thing I have ever heard because he was living every day like he was living in slow motion; like a minute was too long without that woman. I think she was something very meaningful for him, but he was apart from her now."

He thought about his sister. The times he said these words with meaning were the times he was thinking about Mărgărita and how he gave her a name before his parents did. Vladimir thought about the happy days when they were waiting for his mother's pregnancy and his mother was loving Maxim to the point Vlad was jealous and delighted. Those memories are scratched with lines. He wondered why happy memories become scratched in his mind when he tries to remember them. There is not a single scratch on the memory of the day they lost Mărgărita.

"Where do we go when we die?"

"I never thought about where I am going to. I have always thought that what matters is what is going to be left when I die. How people are going to remember me." Vladimir admitted going against every greedy desire in the world. "Our people believe that we need to speak about the person who died with affection and gratitude or the person is going to be punished by Arangeloudhã even if they lived a life of abnegation. We light up a fire to warm their spirit and dedicate the day he died with good thoughts about the person and a feast."

Maxim swallowed that information.

"Vlad, where is our mom?"

Vladimir thought about how the woman disappeared. He wondered if he wanted to know what happened to her or if the ignorance was a blessing. He used to cry every time he wondered if he wished she abandoned them or if she was suffering something. He didn't know which was the worst, but he knew that every odd was against every possibility. His mother wasn't the running type. She had always faced things with courage and steadiness. However, she was a human before she was a mother, so Vlad was divided by his own doubt. Even with that horrible situation, his father was still prohibited from seeing his children because of their grandparents. According to his grandmother, he chose his fate when he married a gorger. His father fought to see them, but their grandparents didn't even tell him where they lived. They said he can search through Russia if he wants to. Even if he saved them from death during the war.

Vlad didn't understand the world.

"We should enter." Vladimir retorted cleaning the tears before Maxim notices them. His baby brother never cries since he grew up, though Vlad cries all the time. "Grandma must need our help on the house choirs."

•

Kazakhstan
May 8th
1957

Vladimir wondered about what he wanted like he was gaping through his whole existence from a black hole. Some memories were scratched with all the lines making a big hand on his neck keeping him from talking. Some memories were blood on his hands and he tried to sweep away because he hates the colour. Some memories were warm. The same way he would feel warm if someone was lighting up all the things he possesses and think lovely about him. Every warm memory were times he spent with Maxim.

If he had to be apart from his father because the man wanted to live outside the community and have the freedom to feel, Vladimir was happy. If he had to watch his mother disappear between the crowded train station and wonder if she was happy somewhere, then everything was fine for him. If he had to give his small amount of food for Maxim eat a little more, eat every day, he was satisfied. There are no scratches in that. When Vlad was ordered to speak, he recited. His mother told him to take care of his brother, he loved him as a child of his own. He was told to leave the place he loved, then he was told to leave the place he was trying to love and he obeyed without questioning.

"Halt, prisoner!" The man with the gun ordered in Russian. He stole food after all. Just one more day. "Put your blindfold."

He put the scratches in front of his eyes.

He attempted to picture his life in the future and aspired to see a scenario where he was completely happy and satisfied with every single breath. He pictured the future where he and Maxim are back in Romania next to the Black Sea. They live nearby, the air is calm and their children play together on the streets. They can be Romani or Jew or Soviets or vampires or whatever they want to be and nobody bothers them for it. They are always seeing each other and walking by the beach with the sand between their feet. They don't need much, but they have more than silver and gold. They had enough. That was something Vladimir wanted badly in his being. He wanted to grow old playing with Maxim, his children and Maxim's children. He wanted to name a girl "Mărgărita" and care for her the same way he cared for Maxim his whole life like he was replaying the whole experience, but with the bloody permission. Similar as if Maxim was never meant to be his and he finally has something that truly belongs to him. He wanted to see the horizon when he smiles to the sea next to that girl and close to Maxim. He never wants to see blood again, unless it's an imitation of red ink on a wall on a game. He wants to grow old with Maxim.

"Kneel!"

For one last time, Vladimir did what he was told.

* •

This chapter was difficult.

Mărgărita Popescu = It's Vlad and Maxim's sister who was born dead and I would like to think she was aph Bessarabia - a region in eastern Europe that passed successively, from the 15th to 20th century, to Moldavia, the Ottoman Empire, Russia, Romania, the Soviet Union, and Ukraine and Moldova. It is bounded by the Prut River on the west, the Dniester River on the north and east, the Black Sea on the southeast, and the Chilia arm of the Danube River delta on the south. And her name comes from Mărgărita Miller-Verghy, a Romanian socialite, feminist and author, also known as a schoolteacher, journalist, critic and translator. Although an accident left her completely blind, Miller-Verghy remained active as both a writer and feminist during the 1920s and '30s. She helped in setting up charity networks, founded some of Romania's first women's associations, and was a pioneer of Romanian Scouting. I found it funny how she was a Germanophile and I can compare her to Italy. Sorry. Just kidding.

Khrushchyovka = buildings for people to live in Russia. Most have five or six floors and have at least twelve flats.

He would be able to say he is part of the Romani people without fearing for his life.

Let's talk about Romani people. Not "gipsies"; this term is offensive, but you might know them as such. Romani seem to have migrated from northern India to Persia in the 11th century; from there moving into and populating Europe by the 1400s. Therefore, there are likely groups of travellers distinguished from the collective "Romani" title by their Persian/Iranian customs, or Italian customs, or Romanian customs, depending on migration choices. Shortly after arriving in Europe, the Romani were enslaved in many regions, a cultural heritage that continued into the 19th century in countries like Romania. In England, Switzerland and Denmark, the Romani were put to death throughout the medieval era. Many countries, such as Germany, Italy and Portugal, ordered the expulsion of all Romani. There are countless reports of Roma children being abducted from their parents, women who had their ears cut off, and Romani who were branded with hot irons. In an effort to force assimilation, the use of their native language was forbidden in some countries; other places forbade the Roma to marry among themselves. Perhaps the most devastating persecution of the Romani occurred during World War II, when they were among the first targets of Nazi atrocities, according to the BBC. An estimated 2 million Romani died in concentration camps and through other means of extermination. This is why Vladimir's father changed their names and placed them to live in a steady place in Romania and his wife's parents in the Soviet Union. They abandoned their culture to survive which it's the same from killing someone.

As recently as the 1980s, Roma women in Czechoslovakia were forced to undergo sterilization to limit the Romani population. Many Romani still face persecution and discrimination and are denied rights and services in the countries where they live. Authorities in Italy have denied housing to Roma families - even those born in Italy - on the grounds that people living in cheap, makeshift metal containers in isolated Roma camps already have permanent housing, according to the Guardian. And in 2013, about 10,000 Roma were expelled from France after their camps were destroyed, according to the Baltimore Sun. However, recent decades have also seen Roma organizations and individuals working to secure rights for Roma worldwide, to preserve Roma traditions and culture, and to provide resources for Roma communities. For example, the Roma Education Fund supports education programs to assist Romani students and to help integrate Roma into education systems worldwide that have historically excluded them. And Hungarian politician and Romani activist Ágnes Osztolykán received the 2011 International Women of Courage Award from the U.S. State Department, recognizing her efforts promoting Roma recognition and rights in Hungary. You might like to know they have divisions between them in which they have several names across the world and several families that dictates its own ways so they are not a one and only group.

Arangeloudhã = a deity that punishes people who weren't well remembered.

gorger = it means "non-Romani woman" in an offensive way.

Yes, Vladimir is Roma. Maxim is Roma. Get over it.