The daughter is 5 years old, does not pronounce the letter "R", instead of it says "L", and soft: not HAND, but LUCA, not ROSE, but LEZA. We go with her on the train, we start preparing for the exit, I pick up my suitcase, she helps me and puts things. Loudly condemns at the same time: "It is bl*t... it is bl*t... it is bl*t...".

The faces of the neighbors were fossilized, and mine too, until it was discovered that it was "brother".

But in general, the child, in general, uncertainly proclaimed all the imperfections of life: wherever you look, it is bl*t... it is bl*t... it is bl*t...