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Yesterday I saw a Russian film. It was about a German man, a musician called Dieter, who married a Russian lady. The Russian lady had a little boy called Kolja. Kolja was four years old and he was very good and sweet with long brown hair. For a while they all lived happily together, but one day when Dieter came home from work, he found Kolja alone in the house. He was sitting on the sofa, watching a DVD. On the table in front of him there was a letter from his mother. She wrote that she had returned to Moscow, but could not take Kolja with her because she had to work and could not afford to stay home and look after him. At first things did not go well between Kolja and Dieter. Kolja was sad and missed his mother. Dieter had never looked after a small child before and did not really know what to do. After a few days things improved. After two months things had improved so much that Kolja believed that Dieter was his father, and Dieter felt that Kolja was his little boy. When Kolja became seriously ill, Dieter got very worried about him and realized that he loved Kolja like his own son. After a week in hospital Kolja got better, but then his mother arrived and took him back to Russia with her. It all happened very suddenly, and Dieter was left on his own. It was a beautiful but sad film.

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