Xxx: The case was in the late 90s.

I left the house at the age of 15, arranged as a carrier to the vegetable market, well, I arranged, attached to the herd, otherwise you won't call it, well, very "interesting" personalities lived there, someone was in search, someone was already sitting down, and there was nowhere to go, someone was just an alcoholic, and no one needed it, and someone left the house :)

We were 30-40 people.

I earned by overloading fruits and vegetables, and I ate the same.

In the summer, beauty, - watermelons, cherries, melons, peaches, generally a complete set for the growing body.

I lived right on the market, spent the night in abandoned villas nearby, went swimming on the river, in general, the young life boiled :)

And here, the careless, hot southern summer, with watermelons and swimming in the river, came autumn, and followed by winter.

Winter... who has not been a homeless man, you will not explain what it is for a wanderer.

It is cold, there is almost no work, and therefore hunger, you break from bread to water.

At the administration of the market we asked for a wagon, put a bourgeois in it, a good, there were no problems with fuel, melted it with broken paddles, spent the night in the same wagon, on the same paddles.

And here, on one such winter, gray, damp evening, we sit in a wagon, a man 12-15, (in the winter two-thirds of the poor disappeared somewhere, as if they were dissolving in the wet snow...), we warm up with the bourgeois.

There were two acrobat brothers in our intelligent company, deceased drug addicts, who did all kinds of shit. Mutted these traits in a spoonful of some infection, injected in turn, in the syringe still remains, and let me shake:

– Well you, Pioneer (my nickname), let’s go, it’s a shit!! to

And here I write this post, a 40-year-old Latinian uncle, I have a daughter, I have two higher education, with experience working abroad (Iran), with a favorite business, in my home, and I remember, as now:

Winter night, wind and wet snow.

I sit with the bourgeoisie, with the sleeves of the jacket a warm steam, on the wagon and the people lying on the wooden pads dance the orange rabbits from the flames, reflected in their thirsty eyes, the right cheek is heated by a warm light, rubbed in a bowl of wood, the spurs fly through the splinter of the drive to the floor, and I am persuaded to crash...



I sit down and think: what would it be like if I agreed...?



Yyy: What if you agreed and still lie there and let go of saliva, and we are the hallucinations of a dying brain?