Bula sche slabka nadiya zustrіti Medvedchuk. Revealing one’s own picture: one likes one here at the bushes in Shevchenko’s park, one can trind with one’s vile falsetto at a mobile phone, and one is so behind, with a Maaaska accent, ingratiatingly: “Viktar Vladimiravich? ” Vin turns around: “A? And you: “On! ”- and you break through the two: with the left, with the right, then with the right - with the foot. I start a turning circle, like on a ring: 10, 9, 8 and a half (here the final march of Nino Roto sounds, around the bells and timchas beats circle around the round dance, all at once - alive and well, who died, perished, became unaccounted for shelling). dads - well, like an axis here.

8, 7, 6. - and so up to minus 100.

Alemy, we agreed. I also add. Haven't caught Medvedchuk yet, maybe I'll have a rest here. I didn’t recognize anything new about trade - it wasn’t up to that, but there were plenty of people in the cloakroom, stink on the street with bags, visas and calm disguises. Visnovok: їzha at the stores є - yakshcho, zvіsno, tse not naboї and grenade cues at supermarkets began to be seen.

On the streets and in the yards it’s clean, awesome. It’s not better to take out my house of smittya regularly - on the other hand, you don’t have to take care of it, - and clean up the container’s white everything that fell during the zavantazhenniy smittevoza. Asphalt entrusted with smіttєvimi tanks clean, like a chocolate bar, lick hot.

Axis, before speech, guessing. 8. And having pulled in a new one, so be moving, I’ll clean my orange vest, taking a mіtla - virіshiv tidy up for the honor of the holy woman. Already here raptom winter! A person is doomed to yshov from sleeping budins, leaving traces of the cloud on the fresh snow cover. So far, I haven’t stared at the beginnings of the IAF “Kyivkhlib”.

Let's go where pishov, maybe, behind a shovel. Also, you are supposed to be, an unknown communal worker of the capital, for naming your vikonati of your services, to be more precise - a hromadyansky obov’yazok! - popri all furnish.

Let's turn around until tomorrow. On certain important objects of the capital, it is more common than ever, the coronavirus pandemic has spread. Todі іnodi bulo, scho there are no people - prote mess all the same buv. At once navpaki - i people є, i order.

The police patrols and the national guardsmen chirped less and turned to the other side, but everything looked a little, more importantly - to wind from my side. Yak there at Mayakovsky, at Poemi. yak її? “Nishtyak! " bіs! Forgetting the name. I want to remember rows of rows from school: “My police protect me! He waves his butt so that he goes to the left - I will go to the left. Very good! \?

(photo ukrinform. ua) A couple of times we cackled with documents. I contrived to forget my passport at home, then once I handed over a plastic journalist’s “ksiva”. Peaceful life has more than one sorrow for it: do not take a lot of money from the hamants. And in the minds of a military man, I became a fit. Prote another time, the incident did not impress the ominous lads, it was necessary to fight off the swarm of “Dia at the Smartphone”. And її schos glitched. I don’t accept a little hostility, you don’t have a “digital power” in your valley, but a self-confident vibukhov attachment, and there the anniversary is knock-knock-knock. Ale ce tik-tak and vіdpovіdne khvilyuvannya trivali no more than khvilini: “Come in faster, be kind”.

As soon as you turn around home, feeling and swaying, like a glass booth with the inscription “Pres” to cook like a woman and a man. Mene - like a veteran of other ZMI with experience - tse, zvіsno, amazed and zatsіkavilo. I’m wondering if a person is trying to get to that kiosk, fix it, start it, start it, and the woman is running after him. I go up to them - and so louder: “Why on the right, shanovni? ”- and so the elbow of the right hand is troch in advance. Well, like that Morgunov in “Operation Y” (“And who are you? - I'm a comrade! " True, on my jacket and red bandage, but there’s no way to put on yellow tape, but it’s nothing: it’s easier, it’s already dark, in a different way - a man seemed to have closed his eyes, saying: “We don’t work! ” - and smartly pishov sobі get. Zhinochka youmu vzdogin: “Goat! ” We talked. It was clear that she didn’t come here for a fresh newspaper, but for cigarettes, for a man and a son to smoke, but stock up on a tyutyun. And at this press kiosk, I found pomitiv, deisno, cigarettes on the window display.

Already in the evening, here about 8. 30, Mayzhe just after the beginning of the curfew, when the house was pierced by a dekilka poststrіlіv z automatic zbroї, zgod - a short automatic line. Ale was already dark, I didn’t understand who, in whom and for what. That one vzagalі: like a fierce one, if the sabotage groups of Russians tried to break through to the center of Kiev, it used to be worse, and worse, and even closer.

Today I sleep at the susides. stink ring out in the course of us.

Glory to Ukraine!