I am standing on the peron, waiting for my electric car to wire from a thirsty city to the village. A woman with a child aged 3-4 years. The boy talks silently in his child’s language, his mother explains something in response. Then he says, “Head in the fire!” ! to Head in the fire, Mom! ! to ! to

I look at the little boy in expectation that right now his head will turn 360 degrees and he will spell the curse in the ancient language. And the boy again: “Mommy, head in the fire!” His finger points somewhere behind my back. A couple of old blue cars. Mother to the child: "Son, is it right to say the "blue wagon" as Gene sings in the song? ... →