xxx: When I was resting in Vietnam, the neighboring room was filmed by two American gay men. In the evening, they went out to each other. One stood furiously, the other bite. This is, in my opinion, a more serious test for the psychic.



YYY: Why write straight into gay? The option that they are heterosexual American ornithologists and brought with them a ridicule and phyllin is not even considered?

At a lesson in natural sciences, they put a trophy, for what I said about the sunflower, that they spin their flower following the sun, so they are called.

“No, they are called so because they are like the sun, and turning is a common misconception and fiction.

I did not argue. At home, I was welcomed by sunsets who looked straight at me from the palace when I opened the door coming from school. And every morning, when my dad and I ate breakfast, they looked at us out of the window (toward the rising sun) and whispered to me something like, “She’s dumb,” “She doesn’t spin.”

Sometimes it seems to me that the alarm clock specifically chooses the moment when you are sleeping very hard. He probably has special skills.

I finally found him. The encounters, whether by indiscriminacy or by ecstasy, gave the most contradictory information. And there were no indicators or advertisements, of course, not the universes. “He” is the ORS, the work supply department. Shops were such, but not for everyone, but for a certain caste. In oil-producing areas - only for oil workers, in metallurgical - for metalworkers, along the railways for railway workers and so on.
Inside it is empty. Only behind the shelf is the seller's ass. Yes, in the corner a certain old lady humbly hid, does not buy anything and - for some reason immediately understandable - no one is waiting, just standing. “And you don’t cough, young man.” I presented my papers. Is there a tuff? No, maybe there’s a clutter? Also not, but is it? Oh, I’m lucky, weigh five kilos, please. And this? You have a lot of abundance here. Also 5 kilograms. “I put my bag up. The set is essentially modest, but in ordinary shops there is nothing but a "tourist breakfast" and some seaweed in the banks. And the other ugliness is unhealthy, absolutely uneatable. At the end of the joke, as with the thistle and the condensed, I ask, “Is there cheese? Is there? Are you serious? One and a half pounds, please. “I can’t,” the seller replied. “Let’s give four hundred.” – Maximum four hundred grams. – “Let’s give four hundred.” – What kind of cheese, I didn’t even think of asking, there were, it seems, three names throughout the RSFSR, all not delicious, but it was cheese. and cheese.
The old lady quietly approached the doorstep. I noticed her hands, large, dark, strained. She hadn’t seen it before, hiding it under the blanket. The cloth is squeezed, somewhere carefully squeezed, tied around the waist of an indefinite color of an old but clean dress. “Daughter, do you sell me cheese?” “You can’t,” the saleswoman usually answers. “The young man can, he’s a traveler, but you, Momma, can’t.” You are not angry with me, my daughter. Forgive me, my daughter.”
I walked to the door. He turned and went back.
The grandmother...
She raised my blinking eyes on me. There was endless patience in those eyes. And obedience – whatever happens – is absolute obedience. Like a horse belonging to a wicked master. They whisper her constantly, it hurts, of course, but so it should be. Otherwise it cannot be.
What, my son?
I pulled her a wrap with cheese: “Please take it, grandmother. It is for you.”
At first she couldn’t believe it. Like the same struck horse, which suddenly instead of a knot was pushed up with oatmeal. No, it doesn’t happen, I’m dreaming. Then he swallowed:
God will bless you, son. I get the money now. Now, where are you, my son? Take the money, my son.
I was at the door, “Thank you. I don’t need your money.”
I am a tough person, not sentimental at all. But here I walk along the paths to my refrigerator section and I feel the tears boiling under the centuries. Tears of anger and powerlessness.
I crashed into the wagon. The bag told the mechanic: “You’re on duty today. “I’m sitting on my bed, I sit. I see the same thing: huge brown palms, accustomed to hard work since childhood. And the eyes, once radiant, and now the blind eyes on the wrinkles face. And most importantly: Impossible patience and submission in them.
The mechanic on the table alternately puts supplies on the table: "Oh, and the rice is overwhelmed! You are good boss. Here we have what? It will even be useful. I turned around and said, “Listen, boss, and if... what about you? Why are you so upset? Happened what?“!”
Nothing happened, I cried back. Everything as usual. As usual.

Makronite - often calling uselessly, long and messy talking on the phone.
To throw a slice is to always promise, but to give nothing.

Why is there still no criminal liability for such a shame? I just imagine a man living in full confidence that he has passed on his genes. Absolutely normal and understandable human desire. A man works, spends money to keep his genes growing and surviving. him, not somebody else. And then it turns out that he did not pass the nickname. And maybe it is too late. And for such a great, really meaningful naebalovo woman does not bear any responsibility, in fact. This must be regulated by law somehow. According to statistics, at least 5% of men do not raise their children. It burns every time.

In 2019, he bought Nintendo Switch. Godek got tired, tired and it was time to get rid of her. He put on the avito at the average market price, said, the full set, the state of fire, quickly found the buyer, a fun guy with dredds and the face of the young Nicholas Cage, and safely took her.

It’s been two years and on one bitter party at work I make a spontaneous decision to buy the same used turf as I did. I quickly find a suitable fresh ad nearby for cheap, I negotiate with the seller and in 15 minutes I shout to the nearest TC. I approach the main entrance, and there I am already waiting... That same Nicholas Cage with a smile to his ears and a console in his hands. No drinks, but it’s not scary. I approach, we silently look at each other, smile. A spark, a storm, a madness... Dialogue: “She?” “She ”. We begin to roast. The circle is closed.