Two boys aged eight. After 5 minutes of studying the sludge, they ask: "What are those phones selling?"
I look, the bodies lie on the shelf, half already empty inside (dispersed into spare parts), and I ask, “Why are they you?” They are not workers."
"Nowu... We will sell the Tajiks, say the battery of the village. We will get money". I shrugged over them, gave a couple of tubes in sight.
"On, consider a gift" I thanked and left.
A good friend arrives in 15 minutes. He pulls one of these pipes and asks: “Well, there’s a battery or charging, the phone has discharged.”
And sad and funny...