My uncle, who never lived in the village, had to run out of town, to the village, all ecologically clean, work in the garden, get out of the cellar in the morning to the threshold, drink milk from the pot and wipe the beard with a sleeve.



He wore his brain for several years until he managed to break out into a real village for a week. And there it turned out that the village is a dull, illuminated physical labor just to not die of hunger. I went back to the city and I never heard such stories from him.