Your letters. 16 March, 2013
“The frost is stronger,” the author of this letter recalls, “and the ice in our town formed a wild. I got to the minibus of the cow on the ice. We are going, I and the driver, in the minibus is empty. Ahead is a cyclist. I say to the driver:“ Wow. ”He:“ This one is going along the edge and day, and the other in the middle, and without cataphs, and not on the road, not the grooves. Further. "Further. I stand near the market at the bus stop - it goes at Motorka (you know, the Soviet" Riga ").