About the companions.

When I go on the road, I always take companions if someone votes.
They are different. They are interesting.

and melomans.

My music in the car is a switch for 12 MP3 discs. What is there only
not there. If the playlist shows this to anyone, you can go straight into the fool.
to form. From a collection of children's songs from cartoons to Bašlalchev
The same thing. And the loser is always in the random track mode, I don’t like it.
of uniformity. My wife calls it that regime. “Radio Dure”

And here one night, behind Tver, a pair, a goose and a goose. Guitar and skin.
chain-clamps, the shorter attribute reflects a brightly expressed style,
Only I don’t understand them very well.

They sat down, and I was not painfully speaking, I made the music louder. there
Shevchuk just sang about "... on the road columns crowns as lighthouses of lived
“That’s like a pack of cigarettes. I see it, I like it,
the heads so in tact whisper, the gargarot from behind even sings quietly, on the
Half-octave doesn’t really get, but it’s a fist. It is nice when people
The taste is similar to yours. Then another like Leo there with B-2 about the big ones.
The city is singing...

And then once! - hopes out boldly so Yura Щатунов and begins "Nimnoga"
“Type by Stiklow, but the wicked Moroccan.”
How they turned! Probably the dentist didn’t care about it.
Then how did Muromov say about apples in the snow, or Barykin about
I will ride a bicycle for a long time. No, understand me right, I am not a sadist. but
Not even a DJ. I’m just crawling the bear. I look at them now.
full of. I think it's okay, only if the heart doesn't catch up. And when my
"Beyond the yellow apple of the moon, by the red apple"
Sunset,” they asked to stop.

So we went out in the rain at night. and melomans. I would say I would turn it off.
* * * *

The artist.

And another time took the artist to Valentine. I was driving at ETU.
Valentina, who understands, is a well-known place behind the Wolf, where these
The artists gather, they have a bedroom there. You go, you go, you go, you go, you go, you go.
fishing, and they stand and stand along the road with their
And they paint everything, they paint something, they look at the distance.
Frogs, frogs and frogs!

Well, I picked up this artist. Then I think, I’d rather be him.
stunned and sat down. My whole brain is drunk. The dog behind is crazy.
She came down, she had never heard anyone talk for three hours in a row, and
Not the TV. At the end, I started nervously screaming over his ear, and I was behind his ear.
At first I was very worried, and then I think: yes, he was with him, Van Gogh didn't bother.
Yes is.

It happened that time.
* * * *

The Grandmother.

I put my grandmother back again. Early in the morning, probably around five. She Long
She stood, wept, and said, “Oh, how warm you are.
Car, oh what a good car you have, and you can't hear how it's driving, oh
You stopped well, or I thought I was going back home.”

I also love old people, only when they’re not speechless.
The grandmother quickly understood the matter and kept quiet. Calmed, heated and
Seems to sleep. And I do not look. Half a hundred kilometers for refuelling
I thought, fucking, where did my grandmother go? I did not ask. I will so
and carefully. It turns out that she is five kilometers away from home, and she must go to the church.
By the dawn. A big party. I think it is nonsense,
They prayed.

What to do? The grandmother must be brought back. In order to plant and
to go on. She says, “From the old fool! Burn it, my son. No is
Go back, don’t go back anyway. Someday I’ll get well, and I’m up.
At the turn. Here she says, “Son, don’t you go through the Torzhok?”
“Not by, but by” Oh! See also! Take me to the torch, dear! I have
There is snow! I hadn’t been there for seven years!”

Go to Torch. At home he says, “Posignal, son. Snow will see what.
I came to the car, her eyes will fall to the floor,” I squeezed, not difficult.
People right through the windows. Well, I played again while she knocked on the door.
I looked, I jumped out, I ran away from the car, I opened the door to her, I shake my leg. I still
from work, lapsard, stickers, border coat... such, nothing to yourself,
The Capital Six. I get my grandmother out of the car.
and carefully. No hurry to get the beauty of the moment behind the curtains
to record.

Here the snake rushes, the eyes hold with his hands. Grandma was pleased.
They dragged me into the house, tea and cakes.

There were black cakes.