One day, my friends and I gathered together in the lukewarm 90s at the city debris. There were several reasons: we wanted to find spare parts for bicycles, as well as spots for perfumes and columns. (For those who don’t know, there was a popular game at the time)



We were all three on bicycles. The landfill was far beyond the city and was a large enclosed territory, which was travelled by будьodozers and placed out of the garbage. Over the landfill were clusters of crows and there was an unbearable smell. We carved at the landfill, the driver dropped the garbage from the cars and did not pay any attention to us. Suddenly there was an exhausting scream from underground: "The car from the meat machine has come!" They were very frightening creatures with dirty brutal faces. Many of the bombers were old people and disabled people. They rushed to the car, which rolled out some bit and bone mixed with the shit. Pushing away each other, they grabbed bones and intestines and bundled them into bags. But most of all, I remembered one bomb with a hook instead of a hand. He cleverly grabbed the intestines and sent them into bags. We escaped from all this horror. I remembered that horror for a long time.