I recently had an unusual story that I decided to tell. I will immediately say that everything written is pure truth, and if there is an inaccuracy anywhere, it is only because of my imperfect memory.



So, the case was a few months ago. I went to a spontaneous meeting with a friend in Poltava, and already after the meeting and afterwards I returned home to Kharkov. Basically nothing, a couple of hours on the track and I am home. I traveled around the country quite often, but never took companions with me. Mostly because all the trips were with my wife, and I have a two-door car, it's uncomfortable to go back, and I don't really trust people on the track. In general, to people who travel for any reason by car stop, I have a "wary" attitude.



Several times I saw "voting" people on the track, but crumbled into his worries, he flew past. And here, driving about a third of the way, I see a guy wandering by the side with a backpack. He also turned and, seeing me, raised his hand. There is no logical explanation why, but I decided to stop. I drop the glass:

and hello. Where are you?

The closer to Kharkov, the better.

I am inviting, kicking my head. He joyfully opens the door and jumps.

Just stick in, I remind you and we go on.

According to my smooth analysis of the appearance, I gave him 30+ years, not very careful haircut and beard, clothes scratched. Overall, it looks like it’s dormant. With an old backpack. But at the same time, I did not feel any unpleasant smell (sugar, chicken, sweat or anything else). I was not in the mood to talk, but the guy apparently lacked communication. And he did not begin the story of his journey from the western part of the country. by foot. without money. I took a heavy breath, I feel another hard story, about how a young healthy guy was in another part of the country without money, not by his will, and in general he is not guilty of anything. Well, somehow it happened that in the last 5 years I have heard such stories from dozens and none inspired trust. Therefore, I in the mode "in one ear flew - in the other flew" quietly approved and generally gave signs of attentive listener. A stop-word for me was his phrase "...to get to Lisichansk."

Lysichansk is a city in the Luhansk region of Ukraine, the native of which I am.

Are you from the Luhansk region? I asked with an untrue interest. You and I are landlords.

I lived in the mountain for a while.

Gornyatsky is a small village near my native town of Alchevsk.

- Fuck, cool, I have relatives from Gorniacki, and I myself from Alchevsk.

- I and Alchevsk lived for a while - a guy smiles.

Well, let’s see if I think it really is.

And where exactly? I ask him, hoping to know if he is telling the truth.

Next to the street, Lipovenko Street.

Spil is a local attraction in Alchevsk, the Obelisk of Victory.

Everything is more interesting and interesting, I also lived next to the spire, but on another street:

- Funny, I say, I also lived near the spy, on the Chapaeva street.

Interest has already arisen from him:

In Chapaeva my aunt lived, 168 house. I frequently visited her after school, I studied nearby, 16 school, and I remember how classy the name - Zinaida Alekseevna Oleynik - with such a light nostalgia he spoke.

I remained silent for a while. After all, I lived in a 166 house, also went to 16 school. Moreover, Zinaida Alekseevna is my classroom in the junior classes. But I remember almost all of my classmates, and this guy looks older than me, it turns out he studied in school before me. I turn to look at him again: yet I have seen him somewhere, probably I was in the junior classes, and he was in the senior, or... but here my brain on the subconscious level, having analyzed all the facts, raising the archives and misleading in the boundaries of the mind, gives the name:

And then Andrew?

He looks at me astonished.

– Yes...

My face stretches in an unwilling smile:

“I’m Serega, your party neighbor in the first class.

I said it, seemingly, before I fully realized what exactly happened. And it happened that I met my first school friend, with whom we sat on the same side for a whole year. A friend with whom my parents were forbidden to be friends because he smoked in the first class. A friend who in the second grade was no longer sitting with me at the same party, because he was transferred to the internship school because of troubled parents. And I met him the hell knows where, the hell knows how, the hell knows how, the hell knows how, the hell knows how, the hell knows where we met – I didn’t have to be there, it was an unplanned trip that almost collapsed at the last moment.



Eventually, I took him to the train station. We talked very well, of course I gave him money for the first time that he could eat and at least get home. It is worth noting that he did not ask for money from me once in all our conversation. All his main adventures he told me and I was genuinely stunned by how a person, essentially having nothing in mind,ins a positive attitude and just goes toward the goal. He did not complain to me, did not ask for help. Even when he was telling about his trip, there was a moment when he went into the street cafe and asked him to feed something, and he would put them a piece of wood for it, or the yard would clean up, or something else would do what they needed. He was rejected, but he said that he understood why: "they don't know me, they think that a wanderer is a sick man, he will do more harm than good...". No any negativity.



I was very surprised by what happened and how. The only thing I regret is that he would have to buy at least a simple phone, any one, only if there was a connection with him. It didn’t come to mind in time.



No matter what, I very much hope that I have been a kind of support for him for the trials he has gone through.

He told me about his adventures that it is never worth giving up and dropping hands. And that was exactly what I needed at that moment.