I crashed from around zero. When he came to Samaria, he dressed very lightly. I was overwhelmed by the weather forecast there - well, some minus 10, a light wind, a little snow. Fear in general.

This morning, when I left the Samara hotel, I was waiting for hell, as the Eskimoes probably imagine it. In contrast to the southern countries who consider hell hell. Today I realized that the Esquimals were right. The ice wind, like the speck of a steppe, penetrated my jacket, jacket, shirt and squeezed through my naked body. All her clothes and face were covered with dust, and she fell behind the shroud. No, science meteorology was probably right with its forecast, some 3 mm of precipitation fell from the sky. Only all the good that attacked for the long winter did not intend to rest on the banks and in the tanks of snow-gathering machines. It was flying, sparking, sparking, and I would say it was flying.

The most cretinism was to go out in shoes. It would seem – five minutes on the sidewalk to the meeting place in the civilized terrain. and UGU. The shoes went into the hole. There were ice lenses underneath. Why did my first steps on the land of Samara smell like a lukewarm dance. Through the snow I smiled from my eyebrows, the desolation in the very center of a million-sized city stunned me. Not a soul. It was apparent that all living was hiding away from this horror.

But he heard! Strongly screwed from behind. Three acquaintances of Chelyabinsk, specific men with airy faces, came out of the hotel in light bushes. The roses were red when they arrived. Or even from night. They did not rush to smoke, safely covering the cigarettes with huge legs. Blessed are they. Exhaling the smoke, one of them raised his shoulders and walked, looking at the white spaces: