I from 5 years to 17 every fucking weekend went to the country, on a fucking, overcrowded stool, grandmothers with wheelchairs, men with bodies, they were gathering there like on vacation. I was not so sad even when I was taken to the army, as before entering this branch of hell. How many times have I been beaten by fucking bags, and one day, by the flow of babies, I was taken off at the wrong stop and the bus left without me, a child’s injury forever.

I begged relatives to go later or get on the bus last, but they didn’t listen to me. At exactly 6 o’clock in the morning, a line of 666 people ran into the guard for 40 people. And now it seems all, there is not a single micron of free space, but the grandmothers with wheelchairs thought differently, they literally flowed like a liquid and occupied those atoms of free space.

For me, a puddle the size of a scarf, there was not enough air on the bottom of this hellish pot.

And then, around 6.15 a.m., "it" woke up and at this moment even the most stubborn grandmothers with the largest wheelchairs began to nervously read prayers.

At 6.16, fully awake, the conductor began to move. From nose to tail. She was like a icebreaker, blurring passengers, no "transfer for passage" only movement in front and a cold contemptible look. I was usually in the middle of the bus and awaited with horror the moment when it would pass by and with the same horror awaited the return of the conductor from the tail.

I just closed my eyes and gave myself to the fate, if it is supposed that my head will spit between the butt of the conductor and the grandmother's cart, then fuck him.