Years around 94-95, like 5th grade. I lived, gently speaking, not very well, and I also started studying to scroll into troubles. They offered me the option: for 5 - +5 rubles, for 2 - minus 5. And I just wanted normal human roller cooks at that time. Well, the second quarter passes, then the third, I am normally so in the plus, I just think, by the summer of the norm. In the spring, Daddy says, “Let’s go to the store.” I am so full of joy, we come to a sports store, and he sits in a boxing pear and gloves. It was fucking as offensive as they imposed their hoodies on the next generation.