It is said that if a man with a pure soul and pure thoughts asks God for something, he will get it.
Once I worked in the center of the capital, and every day I spent from 4 (if lucky) to 6 hours to get to work and back (I live, I have to say, outside the city).
And day after day, dragging in the boring morning traffic on Kutuzovsky, I accompanied by the envyful gaze of the overwhelming bearers of eyebrows carrying on the special (split) strip. And a betrayal thought stumbled into the head: "I would also have to ride this way - with the wind, with the separator, with the flash..."
The dream came true, and even sooner than expected. One day I was taken straight from the office by an ambulance with a suspicion of appendicitis.
Just like I ordered. With a mirror. by Divisional. by Kutuzovsky.
With the wind.
Since then I have tried not to be jealous.