We switched to new technologies a long time ago; we have huge supermarkets. And life is not at all gray. How did it happen that a small house in a huge city still keeps a rare old scoop. My family kick it in the kitchen, scold it when it falls out with the trash can. It even remembers my grandmother while still young.
Our street is nice and calm, it has not changed for forty years. The same old old ladies from another time are sitting on the old bench. They love the guest. And they scold some Nastya from the fifth apartment.
For the first time in a long time, I open the window, the wind rushes merrily into the kitchen. As if wanting to update it. It is already completely different, wind has strength and a thirst for change. And I want to change something in my lonely life too...