My sister and I took pictures of a room in Peter, near the metro of Jelizarovskaya. In the neighboring room lived a man who loved to drink, once a month he had a stable week of drinking, and then "dry law."

Someone he was calm, not bullish, so his drinks, we were not very stressed, we were stressed by frequent visits, his friends. Here she bleached every day, sober we never saw her, but here in varying degrees of intoxication, every day, from slightly stumbling, to rolling the corpse in the hallway.

Often, her mother came to her mother to take her drunken daughter.

Once upon a time, this lazy woman, sitting in the kitchen, sat on my ears while I was boiling the tea, told me about her difficult life, how she gave birth at 17, how her beautiful daughter died at 15 years of age on her arms, since then she has poured the pain with vodka, so she is easier to cope with the severity of the loss. She sits, says all this to me, and the tears flow, straight crocodile, honestly, I was very sorry for her, I could have tried to calm her, but I did not succeed, in the end I shamefully surrendered to my room, leaving a drunk woman crying in the kitchen.

A couple of days later, the mother of Alkasha, again came for her daughter, they engaged in a dispute, the mother orets:

You have eaten my whole soul, I am ashamed to look people in the eyes, what have you done?

She answers her:

“Mommy, go home, that you’re always following me? ! to I’m grown up, go fuck me!

Then there was a loud knock on the door to the neighboring room, and then they knocked on us. This mother knocked at us to ask if we had validol, or if she was sick. We invited the woman to ourselves, sat on a chair, the sister ran to the kitchen, dive into the pharmacy box. My wife and I talked, she said:

Why do I have such a daughter? And where it came from, her father was a worker, not a drunkard, I only drink a couple of garlics of wine for the celebration, and she, well, breaks with cabbage!

I am :

She says that the pain is flooding, and her daughter is dead in her arms.

Did she tell you why her daughter died?

and no.

At this point, the sister returned, the validola did not appear, but there was a carvalol, we dug a woman carvalol, and then she told us her story.

The daughter brought her in the basement, from whom the baby was squeezed by the mother, and herself drank and walked, not coming home for weeks. When the girl grew up, the alchemist, eating the waters, stumbled on the daughter with the reproach that she is an ungrateful creature, she loves the grandmother, and the mother cheers, the mother who endured and gave birth to her. Forced the girl to go for a walk with her, like a mother and daughter on a walk. It was winter, and the girl laid off. She had meningitis. Long treatment, a bunch of money spent, the grandmother went into debt, and the mother of the girl, both cuddled and cuddled on. The girl died in the hospital. When there was a funeral, the mother of the girl went to the store, and appeared only a few days later, at the time of the funeral she was not there, at the feast days too. She did not go to the hospital with her daughter. As it turned out, when she came to the store, there met her friends Alkasha, they invited her with her, and she went with them. Between her daughter’s funerals and a drunkard with her friends, she chose the second, not bothering everyone.

After telling us all this, the mother of Alksha added:

And after all this, she tells people how unhappy she is, and how she lost her daughter, the daughter she changed for vodka!

This is maternal love.