Do you know how it happens? You live your quiet, measured life. Many interesting people around, many trips to countries and continents. You are getting older. Years pass like goats in the evening sky. And only memories remain behind their flock and screams of “li-y-k! and liqueur!”

Fate drove me, with a filming group, to Mexico. Flights, work, negotiations, relocations - all the routine fell on my shoulders. The assistant remains in Moscow. Just before the trip I broke my hand. The Growth! Oh, how I already wore her! And he called it rough, and rough, and rough. Glad she didn’t hear that! How is it? At the most uncomfortable moment for me and the group! I missed her guardian angel. Or maybe my...
And here I go on a white day on a hot slope of a slightly inclined street, shooting objects on the camera on the opposite side. And here... This is always the case... All the important things happen unexpectedly... From somewhere above, on the sidewalk, a ten-year-old boy flies out on the big. I didn’t even have time to see the story, as he hit my hand with the wheel!
The camera, like in slow shooting, flies out of hand and flies into small pieces on the rocks. I stand with my mouth open. And a small shirt, slowing down on my hand for a second, jumps out at the crossroads, almost hitting the forehead of the body of the passing truck. A second was not enough to get under the wheels! A little further away, he slowly falls on the bridge, and the bike continues to bear on the road and ends his life under the wheels of an old scooter.
And there was day, and there was evening. somehow otherwise. A! There was a crowd and there was police. There were witnesses who saw the whole situation from the beginning to the end.
A protocol was drawn up on the site. In the corner weep the mother of the little breaker of all the rules of the PDD. Nearby was crying, whether from fear, or from the loss of the bicycle, the hero of my story. I was waiting for a translator and I thought.
The distant days of my childhood. I ride on my new "Orly" along the narrow brushed streets of my Lviv. The hair is ripped by the wind. There is parody music in my head. I am delighted with this royal gift for my decade. This great man can do everything. Now I’ll jump on a crossover from the border to the bridge, like a real trampoline rider. I’m already training this jump for the third time before showing it to my friends. Fortunately, there are never cars here. for 10 seconds! and nine! Eight, but what is it? A toy machine runs over me. I am braking! I try to get around her, but she suddenly gives back. I am surprised to fall on the sidewalk, and my bike, pulling this fabulous machine, flies out on the bridge, right under the wheels of ZIL.
The police, the crying mother, the father’s belt I remembered poorly. But the boy-tourist from Japan with his miracle-radio-machine has not been erased in memory to this day. He specifically directed her across to me, seeing that I would not notice the truck before the collision. Neither he nor his parents got the money. They only rejoiced in my salvation.
I was reminded by our translator, Consuella. She was worried about my health. The next question was about the price of the camera that the gentleman wishes to display in claim to the little hooligan. Well, she told me that the driver of the lightweight, who crashed on a bicycle, also demands monetary satisfaction for something there stripped from his rugged roof.
I said I have no financial claims. I am glad the boy is alive and almost healthy. I took out all the cash that was with me, I gave $250 to the boy’s mother, taking from her a vow to take the boy to the doctor if he feels dizzying or other illnesses. Buy him another bicycle. The driver gave everything left. Exactly $95.
Consuella told me not to do this, explaining that the police had no claims against me. The woman and the boy thanked, rushing to kiss me in the hand. The joyful driver of the car washed under the noise. Probably afraid that I might change my mind. And I was leaving the site and realizing that a couple of hours ago the guardian angel of this little Mateo and mine had made a deal. I signed it with my money. And he gave more only because he wanted to add something from himself. I used the camera to calculate the action of a Japanese boy. Sorry, I never knew your name. And with money I would simply like to extend this process of interaction between the guardian angels who protect us.
Remember to. Someday you will be asked what they did for you. At the most unexpected moment. And you will have a chance not only to calculate what happened, but also to extend the process.