You go from the school in the sandals, in the spring style, with the rainbow backpack after the English lesson from the teacher, who never in her life heard the sound of English speech.

You walk past the street pub, where the hard workers pussy each other with mugs of beer diluted with washing powder. past the barbershop in which you were chased out of school for the fact that the “ears are not open” to the homemade hairdresser, who will first cut your neck with a razor and then smelly “chyprom” will flood it.

You walk past a grocery store, in which "fresh vegetables" were just brought up on a dump truck and the stench is such that, bitch, a school cutlet with a sour-salty cucumber climbs back.

you go past the three hundred meter long queue of trucks that brought scrap metal to Vtorchermet. and they stand, not drowning out the engines, because firstly, it may not start, and secondly, state gasoline, fuck it to save.

come home, where the neighbors behind the fence, working on the state market "on meat" and therefore ride on the six "Zhiguli" of the sixth model, for the hundredth time listen to a song about cherries, ripened in the garden with Uncle Vanya and drunk voices.

And so, bitch, happily at heart, from the fact that Gagarin first flew into space, and the five-year plan for the rental of ferrous metals was completed in 4 years. and any American worker wants to be in the place of my parents in a sham project institute for 120 rubles, but does not have such an opportunity. and especially from the fact that all over the world we are respected and feared.

Vladimir Pityk.