Uge poteryala s4et dnyam. Izredko dohodyashie sms’ki vozvrashaut v real’nost’.Ni4ego ne delat’. Prosto razvalitca na solnishke v ofigitel’nom sadu, boltat’ ni o 4em s 4elovekom, kotorogo ne videl 4 goda, griZt’ pe4anushki i jmuryas’ smotret’ na solnce. La vie est belle. Nado bilo zasunut’ v rukzak kuso4ek belih no4ey (my tea’s gone cold, i’m wondering why i got out of bed at all the morning rain clouds up my window and i can’t see at all and even if i could it’d all be grey, but your picture on my wall it reminds me that it’s not so bad, it’s not so bad)
Segodnya ne oboshlos’ beZ nebol’shoy grozi, vovremya uspeli smitca iz basseyna.
Mne torgestvenno bil vru4en podarok na moy pozaproshliy den4 varen’ya. Stihi, poemi i etc. znamenitogo francuZskogo poeta. Ve4erkom zaymus’ pro4teniem