Once upon a time there was a natural market in my street near the stop. in the boxes
Strong and not very grandmothers and grandparents laid out to sell all the shit,
Beginning with the seeds and ending with God knows what. I am standing at a stop.
And I see some man, in the appearance of a purely bullshit, dealing with
in the cages of the rubbish, which apparently found in the debris. Suits him exactly.
The second one asks, “Master, is there a winter jacket?” for what
the first raises on the buyer a dimly alchemy look and,
During the break, he says, “No... We’ve already moved to the summer...
The range...”