I am standing at the stop, waiting for the route. A young guy from the Caucasus outside approaches and says:

You have very beautiful eyes. Should the perfume of the lettuce be squeezed?

Why am I crushed? I have an unspoilt regiment at home, I answer.

In the store they are eight, and I have a thousand.

I don’t want to be squeezed somehow.

So they are as long as I have them, and you will buy them.

No, fucking some kind of.

- Okay, let's run down on a stone-sweeper-paper and if I lose, then I have two knives.

What if I lose?

and kissing

I am married.

Sorry, and he goes away.

I am now on a road trip, without two thousand, without spirits and unkissed.