A few years ago, when my parents were still alive, my wife and I went to host them. We stayed for a week and flew back. A few days later, I got a call from my parents. Laughing, he told me a beautiful story. After our departure, as always, a home inspection was carried out for forgotten things, because they were always there. And here, in the room where we slept, two white sealed bags with incomprehensible powder were found in a glass vase. My dad took drugs and brought it to his mother. The children, it turns out, we have drug addicts, mother. What to do? Is it not drugs? Dad was watching TV. He took a knife, with a careless gesture of the American cop broke the bag and got the powder on the tip of the blade. And then then? have to try. What is the taste of these drugs? The hell knows him. Inhaling, he sent the substance to his tongue. I immediately splashed. I let go. Just the salt in the airplane lunch bag, which I put in my pocket and put in a vase at home. My father apologized for thinking badly about us, and I didn’t get offended. But I still have a smile on my face when I present this scene.