by Alexander Burakov:

I went to a granite wine store. Well, I think I will enjoy paradise enjoyment from the exotic taste, pleasant aroma and light tropical tolerance.
The smell of the washing powder alerted me at once, but I removed it by deciding that the proletarian rude nose, which grew up in the middle of the Perm factory tubes, was not meant to capture the subtle game of fruit shades. The color also did not inspire confidence, but I wrote it down to the fact that the winery chose the most ripe harvest (last year) for wine. Taste put a confident spot in these searches, mercilessly cutting off the career of the beginner Ural sommelier at its very origin. In short, a decil of sugar was added to manganese, bottled with water from underneath the crane, plunged the primrose and squeezed a picture from the Internet printed on a thin bottle on a jet printer. A good thing. In the summer, I will be treating the frogs in the yard.