sable-fuzzy: Someday she catched a three-year-old saint and an older girl on a mini-carousel with a muscular traction, and in the process they had secular conversations:

Is it your mother?
No, it is Nastia, the Cross.

A girl, with a complacent expression of an elderly lovelace, tired of the abundance of female charm around:

A beautiful woman.

I dropped the car and hysterically struck.