As far as I can remember, all the equipment around me was old and worn out. My father worked on old trucks all his life. And the other trucks in the fleet were also old, despite the fact that my father was periodically traveling for new ones. The heatboat, on which I first sailed on the Volga, was from the past century, wheeled. I remember the oak cutting panels in a restaurant and a car with long shadows. Then I sailed along the rivers on various boats and heatways, and they were always old, covered with dozens of layers of peeling paint. I don’t remember any flight on a new plane. They were always weak, lost and old. What LAZY, that Ikarus, Liaz and now here are all kinds of Manas, Iveco, etc. All are old. Houses, new buildings, in a couple of years become sloppy and old. The roads are broken and old. I am old myself. But I wasn’t always like that, but everything around me was always old. Even the things I once did, the trees I planted, are all old. And only my kids are still new and young.