Olga is the mother of two young boys. I come to the guests in the evening, the apartment is drained up glowing, dinner is prepared (father’s smell from work), children with no traces of bites, scratches, paints, flamesters, plasticine on the body and angelic faces sit quietly painting (which does not happen to be reborn). In the bathroom, Olka stands with circles from lack of sleep and empty gaze and washes in the shell of scratches (Yapsel! She is washing!1 of 1).
My first reaction is to breathe out, bobber!! to