I am on a narrow path. company of young men. I say, young people, you can pass. Yes, go on, of course we split up.
I drive a wheelchair along a narrow path. company of young men. I say, young people, you can pass. A couple of men despised, silently separated.
I walk with a child’s wheelchair and a child’s hand on a narrow path. company of young men. I say, young people, you can pass. You split up, and the echoed voice - of course, you are the mother, you need it.
In the trolley bus on the back seat is a man, aged 30-40, decent, calm. Suddenly, he becomes pale and begins to sit on the floor. People are sitting, sitting. Oh yeah oh yeah.
In the bus on the middle floor by the window stands a lady with a boy of five years. Apparently Mom. Nice and calm. A couple are standing, looking out the window, sometimes negotiating. And suddenly she becomes pale, the eyes are glassy, the hands crampfully compress the arms. The conductor notices, supports her with her hand, asks the guys sitting next to her - sit her. And in response, let him ride a taxi with his puppy, we are not obliged.
There are no more mothers, there are only eaters.