—          Hello


—          Get up, they ordered to remove your stuff today


—          What’s the time?


—          Half past six


—          Ok, I’ll be there


Waking up in the morning during the polar night is little different from waking up on January 1st of any year. You don’t understand anything, don’t see anything, and you try to feel about your clothes, along with cussing out your creative bosses. While going along the corridor, hang-over enhances due to shaking walls. And coming outdoors, you get shocked by piercing wind. While you’re convulsively trying to zip the jacket, a dozer sneaks up behind you and demands to give way by horn, sounding like stentorian voice.


In winter, during snowstorm, heavy machinery looks like demonic creatures. Engine’s howl, growl of tracks… Headlights tunnel the darkness looking for a victim. Jeez…


On the way back from the storage facility you certainly slip on ice, covered by snow. You get out of the snowbank, cuss out the winter which starts in October, fucking weather, polar night and same-named region too.


Shapeless shadows are looming near the storage facility. Incompletely awakened brains send association — Werewolves. Everybody swears and wants something from you. And you only growl in reply sluggishly. Only bared teeth and phosphoric eyes are missing.


Conclusion: no people can be found in polar region at 7 a.m. in winter.


Actually, I’m lying: when I entered the storage, the first thing I felt with frozen hands was a hot cup of coffee, passed me by the storage-keeper. That was beyond price.

Май 28, 2011 at 5:16 пп автор drHimik
Категория: Дневник @en