Prompt: It was March 1969. When the spring-like days arrived, I impatiently walked along the still sticky road into the country grove. The grove greeted me with the melodious murmur of a stream, rapidly rushing towards a ravine lost in the thicket of bushes and trees. The muddy stream, crashing into the polluted rubble of snow, exposed its lower clean layers, and in this snow-white rim began to look surprisingly elegant