In 2005-2007 this story ended. He worked at an enterprise where the dress code was observed - a suit, eternal necklace and other joys of life. is uncomfortable. But it looks like a cultural one. I didn’t have my own transport, so I always took a bus from work to home. I come to the local small bus station, I wait for the bus, and I get this careful bomžik (forever there). Things shrink, thinning – shrink in one word, but! Sweat is clean! He approaches me and, a little frightened, asks:

Do you have a lot of rubles for bread? Shop in two steps. I think, "I will give the little things - not a pity, and I will look at the same time - bread, but... If not bread, then I will send in the future." He gave him small things, he goes to the store, goes out with a bucket. In fact, he was honest.

He approached me once again to bite, all the same, to shoot on the bread. And then again it is appropriate, I already by habit give him the prepared little stuff, and so complainingly asks:

Could I be bigger?

I did not understand.

I take a picture for work.

What work?

I’m here... I’ll get it back later.

He gave, not hoping for a return, but... For some reason he believed in the good. It’s been a week and a half since I didn’t see this boy at the car station and I watched him again. In the new specialty, cleanly shaved, the man patled his haircut, he did not even recognize him, if not by his voice, he would not know exactly. He gave me the money that I gave him for photography. It turns out that he went to work for a local plant, whether a diversity worker, or a courtyard worker, or someone else, got a room in the shelter - lived. He told me how he got into the bomb. The mother drank everything, and the apartment, including, and ended, he, the teenager, was thrown out on the street - and bombarded.

So believe in people. If a man wants, he will rise from the bottom.