My diaries. Mikhalkov N.S.

These are my notebooks that I began to conduct during service in the army, or rather, in the Pacific Fleet. For forty years they rode with me in cities and towns, I did not show them almost to anyone, continuing to record “for memory” what seemed interesting to me, and treated them like a working tool. As for my naval diaries, I don’t understand why I didn’t destroy them at one time. Of course, they did not contain secret information. But the one who lived in Soviet times can imagine where my dreams of directing rolled down, getting this notes on the eyes of some uncle from Old Square or Aunt from the Mosfilm party committee. Therefore, I hid the diaries all these years. But time passed. And with such a speed, such a kaleidoscopic whirlwind, the landscape of our external and inner life has changed that it seemed to me - these records made by either pencil, then a fountain pen, then at one end of the country, then in another, become a certain document of awareness of time, history, man.