Why the baby sleeps?
Read this article a few months ago. Who is the author, I don’t know.
All this time she never leaves my mind. Please read.
In the underpass near the metro station sits a woman of indeterminate age.
Pass in stride and thirty, and twenty-three, and forty-two. Hair
women’s matted and dirty, his head lowered in sorrow.
Before the woman spat on the floor transition is a bag. In the sack compassionate
citizens throwing money. And would not cast, right at the hands of a woman holding
weighty “argument” in favor of the fact that her money is necessary. On
woman sleeping child two years. He’s in a dirty cap, former
once white, in a sports suit. Transition – the place is quite
lively. And flows an endless stream of human crowd, and rings in a trifle
bags, and rustle of banknotes.
I walked past a woman about a month. I guessed who the money donated numerous passers-by. How to say how much is written, but our people are like this – pity.
Compassionately, to tears. Ready our people to give the shirt off his
the last penny out of his pocket to shake. Filed such “unfortunate” and
I feel that you still not so bad. Helped, kind of.
Good deed done…
I walked past beggars month. Not filed, as would not,
so my money on that rascal
bought a brick one, but was inserted into the wall of a new house-Palace
his. Let it be a hole in the wall, this villain. Not
brick from me. But, judging by how the beggar was served, the owner of her
had some of the houses-palaces.
Well, the beggar something to be gained, of course. A bottle of vodka for the evening, Yes Shawarma. The owners of these
“points” have a lot of begging, but differ greed. And
cruelty. On that and keeps their superdohodny business. On money on Yes
fear. None of them put a coin in a bag doesn’t know what “stand up” on
place Vladimir Cathedral near impossible, and walking on cars
metro with dull-dreary “I’m sorry you obrashaysya” costs from 20
dollars a day. Or knows? In this case – knows, but delivers?
None of Dobryakov, sacrificing “Madonna with child”, not thinking
another issue. Over one mismatch, literally throwing themselves in
eyes. A month later, walking past the beggars me suddenly shock
hit, and I, staying in a crowded crossing, stared at the baby,
dressed in always-dirty sports suit. I realized that
seemed “wrong”, if you can call “correct” itself
finding a baby in a dirty underpass from morning to evening.
The child slept. Neither sob nor cry. Sleep, burying his face in the knee
the one who seemed to his mother. The beggar raised his eyes at me.
Our eyes met. I bet she realized that I realized…
Any of you, dear readers, have any children? Remember how often they
slept in the age of 1-2-3 years? An hour, two, maximum three (not consecutive)
daytime sleep, and over – movement. For the entire month my everyday
walking the transition I never saw the baby awake! I watched
a little man, buried in the knee “mom”, and my terrible
suspicion gradually formed in confidence.
– Why is he sleeping all the time? I asked, staring at the child.
Beggar pretended that didn’t catch. She lowered her eyes and
wrapped in a collar worn jacket. I repeated the question. Again the woman
looked up. She looked somewhere behind my back. In her opinion
clearly legible tired irritation mixed with utter
detachment. I first saw this view. View creatures from another
– Went to… said she mouthed.
– Why is he sleeping. – I almost cried…
Back someone put a hand on my shoulder. I looked around. The man with typical
a person working with a nearby plant was disapprovingly Harel grey brows:
– Why are you stuck to it? See life and so she… Ah… On here, my daughter, the man shook out his huge fist coin.
Beggar crossed himself, picturing the face of humility and universal
sorrow. The man removed the paw from my shoulder, walked to the exit transition.
House he will tell how he defended the oppressed, the poor, obezdolennye
the woman from the villain in an expensive sheepskin.
The policeman who came to me in the next day, put it almost as much as his
“mentee” is a beggar. And to your question I have received exhaustive:
– Went to…
And the baby slept…
I called in a favor. This is a fun and fun-loving people with
eyes-black olives. He hardly finished the third grade, and reading with
labour. A complete lack of education does not prevent him to move on
the streets of the city on very expensive cars and live in a cabin with countless
number of Windows, turrets, and balconies. Friend was quite surprised
my confidence that all, without exception, such business
control of the representatives of his nationality.
I learned that in Kiev beggars “hold” and Moldovans, and Ukrainians. Moreover, the first
specialize mostly on “disabled veterans”. We often see them on
crossings and traffic lights, literally scurrying under the wheels of cars. Imaginary
the Afghans are “working” and also in the subway.
“sick”, with a limp and “General surgery” in charge with the equal
success by both the Ukrainians and Gypsies. This business, despite the apparent
spontaneity, clearly organized. Supervised begging
a passerby, he would have fainted from surprise. Children take in “rent”
families of alcoholics, or simply steal. But that’s all they say,
I needed to get the answer to the question – why is sleeping
child? And I got it. And, my friend Gypsy uttered the phrase,
plunged me into shock, casual, calm voice. How about
– Or heroin, or vodka…
I was dumbfounded. “Who’s on heroin? Anyone under the vodka?!”
– The child. That didn’t hurt. Her with him to sit all day, I imagine he may get bored?
To ensure that the child slept all day, pumped up with vodka. Or –
drugs. Of course, that children’s bodies are not able to cope with
in such a shock. And children often die. The worst thing is sometimes dying day,
among the “working day”. And imaginary mother should be sitting with a dead child
on hand to evening. Those are the rules. And passers-by walk past, and leave
the change in a bag, and thinks it’s doing the honorable thing. Help
… The next day I was standing in the passage near
metro L. a Policeman who responded to me yesterday by oath, not
to be seen. I stocked journalist card, and was ready
a serious conversation. But conversation did not happen. But it turned out
The woman lay on hands ANOTHER child. My questions
the beggar simply ignored with the dull face. I was interested in
the child’s documents, and most importantly – where yesterday’s baby?
Mooch questions are ignored, but they are not ignored by traders,
standing nearby. From women selling panties, I learned that I
you should put it mildly, be removed from the transition. To the cheers of traders
joined her indignant neighbor in the craft. Followed by passers-by
advanced years. In General, I was ignominiously expelled from the transition.
There was only one – call 02 or look for a police patrol. But the militia
found me itself. Sergeant, lover to send in… came up to me and asked
documents. I documents are provided, and expressed his opinion about
finding a woman with a child in transition. The Sergeant agreed with me, and…
went to call someone. I stood in front of the transition, with a full sense