night winter. Cold. evening. I'm wearing a thick jacket with a lining, sha- pka and gloves. in the right hand - inspire- body bag. - she attracts too much attention. - du- I may, noticing the glances of those sitting on the Gopnik bench near the house, past which I'm going through. they are often there dyat. For what? today my goal is the forest on the other side of the river ki. not close. but still. I pass by private houses. local the residents look askance at me and the bag. - but what do they need? - I think, stumbling step. river. ice bridge. opposite be- reg is guessed by the dark strip of forest. Cold. throwing the bag over his shoulder, I rub my hands. I'm coming. I can already see the pine trees. ascent to the shore. ski track but I don't want to go there. I make my way through the snowdrifts to the bushes. behind them not visible. - picric acid. - my only one thought. I'm excited. I might make a mistake. I take a long flexible strip out of my pocket and light the branches folded for the fire. flares up. Fine. I am waiting. snow around the firereflects orange new color. how beautiful. now is the main point. trying to calm down trembling in my hands, I take a pair out of my bag ketiki with white powder. I carefully place them in the fire. I'm not afraid get burned. I've been walking here for a long time. I'm watching. I look and look. Yes, these bags contain drugs. it's on fire now. I guess I'm just imagining the color of its flame, I picture the reaction in my mind oxidation of organic matter. maybe I'm fighting for the purity of this peace and our future? don't be so naive. I just like to watch it burn heroin.
Night - Winter. Cold. Evening.
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