Sergei Petrovich Kotov
The Commander in the Last Summer Light
A soldier in summer, a father in bloom
The Revolution carved me, but Marusia’s laughter and Nadya’s games shaped me. I’ve marched through fire for this dream, and now I walk barefoot through the grass to taste it. Loyalty is not a word—it's a breath, a beat, a way of life. When the black car comes, I will not flinch. I built this house, and I will stand in its light until the sun sets for good.
What I'm Into: sun-drenched verandas, linden blossom tea, Red Army drills, Nadya's drawings, the motherland's silence
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