I worked in the first class as a promoter. February, frost and wind. I walk through a narrow street, distributing leaflets with frozen hands for the third hour. The seller walks out of the store, watching. You cannot leave the street. There was a bunch of bombs nearby. They walked by, rushed to pick up leaflets, for something they built my eyes. The smell is simple. People are cracking. When they again defiled in front of me and asked (on the seventh) rubles to happen, I could not stand, said everything I thought about them and about the imperfection of our world. Say, the money itself has no, I stand here working, and some on the hole, even interfere... The Bombs looked at me so sympathetically, left. After 5 minutes someone pushes me to the side. I see - again these pearls, standing, mysteriously swing. One stretches me the box half with a width, half with some ugliness with the words "On, you sing though"...
There is good in this world.