As a child, I went to a camp in Anapa. It would sound beautiful – the sea, the sun, the beach, the fruits... And it turned out to be a tough hardcore. You wake up at 8 in the morning, then with the rest of the squad are taken to charge. Charge on the beach. It is hot, the sand is hot, deep, it is hard to go, you are already all wet, you want to drink. It would seem - this is the salvation, cold water! Here is fucking. You are not allowed into the water, but it is always in sight. Next is charging. A fucking charge! Back on the sand to the camp. The question is, what fucking thing was it to cross the sea? Apparently, we were educated in the strength of will and the fighting spirit. Then the whole camp was taken to collect cherries. They were all poisoned. But it is nothing. I haven’t been charging for two days.