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The Art of Free Flight or a Brief Essay on the True History of Ukrainian Aeronautics

Taras Macondo, Yana Motovylo

First line

Located almost on the very Ukrainian-Romanian border, the village was called Shuyan (do not think, nothing to do with the French Chouans). In this small Transcarpathian village, no one has ever heard of a seagull named Livingston, nor of the Glittering World. Not to mention all sorts of Ariels, Phaetons or ordinary Indian levitation enthusiasts.

The vast majority of residents were interested in used Mercedes, frontier trade and petty smuggling. The contingent of the village consisted of pragmatic, cunning and suspicious people. In short, philosophical reflections and spiritual quests were not in trend here.

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Ukrainian Moto Zen is at Amazon already!

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UKRAINIAN MOTO ZEN AFTER 60: KYIV – GROSSGLOCKNER (XI)

Taras Pysar

Tchaikovsky, Hitler and the blue-yellow rider

“You know those ducks in that lagoon right near Central Park South? That little lake? By any chance, do you happen to know where they go, the ducks, when it gets all frozen over? Do you happen to know, by any chance?”

I saddle my metal Chinese horse and set off. Yes, the harsh truth is that my motorcycle is Chinese. Former Ukrainian emeritus law teachers simply can’t afford a Japanese advanced motorcycle. However, just like in prison, you can be free, just as you can be happy traveling on a Chinese motorcycle.

Leaving the glorious city of Uman I go to the next city on my route – Vinnytsia, finally to the West (oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet). 

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