You have a stroller, so I don't think you are ready to listen to my biography ...
I love persimmon. The gentle, rushing, sweet, especially frozen, when it can be spoon. Today I bought it such - almost brown, sprawling in the palms, the size of two fists. And then I went to the "Bread House" and for the soul grabbed half the same brown rye bread, still warm, with a solid crispy crust. It smells like a paradise.
In the campaign for delicious I was accompanied by Zoya. She slept in the stroller, the hood was lowered, and I rubbed her home in anticipation of bread and persimmon.
The grandmother was standing at Dimitrov. Such, you know, the old woman is two hundred years in appearance, folded almost in half, in the doodle fur coat, knitted over the painted handkerchief, with painted lips and crooked, but densely suspended eyebrows. Grandma leaned with all his weight on the cane, which rushed and threatened to go from under the grandmother's hand, and smoked. Smoked and greedily, with pleasure exhausted and loudly puff. Periodically, she grabbed his hand, in which he kept a cigarette, for a cane, and then the rigging of canes became very threatening.
- Do you need help? - I cautiously asked when the grandmother was clearly swayed.
Babulka was dragging, fiercely exhaled, Pomorgal and a herd voice said:
- Only a good sip with brandy will help me!
- Sorry? - I tried not to smile.
"Baby," said Babulka and again saddown a good portion of smoke, "the lover threw me, he went to the young, and my heart was broken. To support the body, I have a cane, and for the support of the Spirit, I only need cognac, because I have three more packs.
Probably something in my face gave my shock. I thought: to young - it's not older than a hundred fifty, or what?
- It was still seventy-fifth year, but as I remember - I want to find and remove this bastard! - granny granny and pulled out again, - but you have a stroller, so I don't think you are ready to listen to my biography and even more so to spend me before the place where brandy is sold. I know here is quite a store.
"All you are good," I said, and went further, because I didn't have enough anymore. What else could I answer?
And then, coming home, I sat down a persimmon, and dislocated the jaw. I repeat: I ate a soft persimmon, a spoon, and suddenly it clicked on the left, the jaw jaw, and I barely closed my mouth. Who wanted a crispy rye crust? I wanted. Fig me. An hour later, I managed to carefully cheering a breadfall.
And now I sit and think: the fate has developed so that I can not get the desired food for the body. However, this grandmother today perfectly satisfied my spirit. Her image will no longer give me peace. Especially red lipstick and crooked, but densely drawn eyebrows.
And the jaw is injured tomorrow. Here is the stand.