In the steppe of Kharkiv, there are no earthquakes by definition. My first real drinking in my life happened when I was 20. Upon returning home, I quietly went into a warm bath, I sat, swimming in the clouds, well!
Suddenly, the water at my feet gathers at the corner and carries me in the face, covers my head, carries to another wall, flows through the edge and, with the sounds of a storm, falls to the floor.
It was the echo of an earthquake that occurred in the Carpathians, somewhere in Europe. Since then I have not drunk at all, I say intolerance.