In the village where I spent my childhood, there was an interesting economic situation. In the center worked a spiral factory. Well, the burdu (residues from the distillation of alcohol) was delivered to the peasants. They fed pigs.

In short, everyone was pleased.

Especially the pigs.

Example as in the world today. The ergonomics are the same - you pour the pigs burdock, and they are satisfied. Buzawa, World Cup 2018, Major 3.

The pigs were usually slaughtered during the holidays.

The previous archaeological layer was used to store the burda. More precisely, the stone basements of previously demolished houses.

At one point in my childhood I fell down. When I played.

Burda was approximately on the belt.

Well, I logically thought they’d be feeding pigs tonight. In the hole will be put a hole. And then I scream:

I am here!

The evening came and no one came. I went, tried to sit - and no fig - in the sitting position of the burd above the nostrils.

And you know why nobody came to the pit to pick up a pig burdock? And not only in the evening. And all night! People were not pigs. They were looking for me!