I live in Peter. Summer is a clear thing which year is not. And here I look out to look at the weather and see a pigeon in the corner of the balcony, hiding from a terrible hurricane. He wanted to expel, but it was unfortunate, and his wife said, "Don't touch the poor girl, let her warm up." I pulled the curtain and forgot about the bird. And a few days later, deciding to go out to the balcony, I found that the whole floor of the balcony was terribly swept in three layers of dried pigeon shit, not even a foot where to put. For more than an hour, I stacked and pulled out the pigeon’s excrete. And here’s why I’m telling it all: all the time, while I was destroying the traces of the “poor pigeons,” I thought about the fact that each of us in our lives had situations with relatives or friends, when you likewise regret someone, shelter or help, and then for a long time wipe away behind them shit, both in the direct and in the translated sense. Such a sad morality.