A-Film Studio
Supported by the Cinematography Dpt. of the Russian Ministry of Culture
About Crayfish
Green, awfully long hair...
Big, big breasts...
They brush my hair, and keep telling me:
"If you swim here, I will tickle you, drag you to the depths, to your grave in the silt!"
Go away. I'll find my clothes somehow...
...
"Oh, treasured days are coming...
...hard days for us."
Go! Go!
Here I am.
Giddyup!
A torn, sick, restless execrable soul I am...
Torn, big and sick...
It's too early for me...
She's tearing up what is torn...
He traipsed around and woke everyone up.
Really! That's no good!
He got so drunk that he just collapsed under a bench.
...
If you've decided to do the washing, wash!
Look... she's come.
Let's go.
Salasha, Vilka! We're going home!
Mother...
They've trampled all over...
...with smears and sneers and jeers...
...this forsaken, torn, sick, restless, listless soul...
Let me go...
to visit my dear mother and my homeland.
I miss her...