After visiting the bust and to see a number of people practicing landscape (below), my found a small museum where, oh, mon Dieu!, were exposed Chekhov wearing glasses at the time of his death. This was saddened. A few yards found a bottle of wine with the name of the Russian. This was pleased. And so he spent the rest of the day. Saddened and Joyful, joyful and grief. We, as a story straight out of the teacher. No? 
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