Actually it is not funny. But I cannot tell.

A gorgeous girl in a clad cloth runs between two rows of decent cars. The dough is bright. The girl is on her heels for some reason, and this is our place, where, as Cat Matroskin also testamented, valence is our national food, tyfu - shoes.

In general, the girl is very graceful about what we are now on the road cover. Have you seen Indian films where the meatful chickens, sorris, Indians carry suitcases, children, bottles on their heads? Imagine – such an unstoppable wave from above_down_to the side and so on. The girl is the same. And, of course, on a slightly shifted hand bag, a phone in the hand, in the eyes a boring concern.

She elegantly, trying not to touch passes between cars, periodically looking up. In the heavens. Whether he is praying or he is looking at something. As in the song, “I’ve been waiting for a cowboy all day.”

Well, Cannes, she’s predictably sliding. In one hand a phone and a bag, as I’ve already noticed. The other is free. She, predictably, seeks support with the other hand, and finds – like a mirror at the “Range Rover” by which she passed. You know, these Indian cars are no longer those. Previously, it was possible to pull the “Kirovets”, but now. The mirror is broken. The support of course the girl did not get, but received a different vector direction. In addition, she instinctively rattled.

A bag in one hand. The mirror in the other. There is movement. There is no resistance. The girl beats her head at the wing of the car. receives a third direction. He falls and flies under the car. Only the head and hands.

I had nothing to do but run to her.

Stay calm, I’ll get you out now!! to

I am waiting for a strong selection of the Leningrad word. A very calm woman’s voice:

“When you pull me, please don’t look at me, I’ve hit my shirt.