x: photo_ventile_in_Nizhnevartovsk.jpg
Y: Yeah, I remember lying it at 59, the bloodshed sneezed and immediately froze. The salmon hanged 20 cm bloody.
Y: Nizhnevartovsk has its own laws
Y: went on the mushrooms in the summer - drowned in the swamp. I walked on the river in the spring, and the flood took you away. I went to the store in the winter and didn’t come.
In the summer, the turf is burning and we can’t breathe. He breathed, but there was no air. A vacuum and a harp. Choose to breathe whatever you want.
Y: and while you choose, the frost fuels
y: and the vacuum froze up to -70
Y: and the night is always winter
Y: and the nights of self-driving are like red sails. Not just children, but all.
Y: Then the swamps outside the city from the bodies from the shores come out. Menta does not like it - hangers are formed
Y: That’s why they burn the mud. forest fires - the turf is burning
Y: But the mushrooms grow wrought, huge. You go after them - and in the swamp
Y: And while you dive, pray: even if the frost would fade and the mud would freeze. It took me a couple of times. He smelled the lick of frozen sweat from his forehead and went home.
y: and always passed by that valve
Y: He manipulated me
y: The pipe was next to the house, chased oil to feed Mother Russia
y: and the ventile was a type of stopcraper
Y: But he wasn’t guarded – everyone knew that the important thing was...