From the Fire:

One day I was riding on a neighboring shelf with a sailor. A real seafarer, just a miner. That is, he is a sailor in general, because he has traveled the Tue mountain through the seas for years. I don’t remember who he was, a bozzman or somebody else, but the main thing is that he’s a sailor. So he can poison the sea bikes until the sea devil whispers on the mountain. All the time he doesn’t sleep. I boarded the train at 6 in the morning, naturally after a night of charges without a fight I surrendered, and at 11 I learned that a sailor was driving in front of me. Because at 11 he woke up and opened his mouth, and only closed it at 23, and that is because he was closed under the pretext "Everyone is already asleep, it's good to bask." And all that time he was running bikes. The Marines. In a few years of sailing, he has accumulated much more than 12 hours. It’s like driving in a coupe with Jack the Sparrow. And when the appropriate sea tales stopped coming to mind, he remembered that he was actually a miner now, and began to tell mining tales. Because he once sailed on the seas and decided to descend underground. For the diversity. What to do - from the water right under the ground. It was a reasonable explanation, but I can’t remember it now. But the point is that he is a sailor, but now is a miner, and can tell about the life of a miner. It is as if there is little sea.