Chill winter morning. The train station was almost deserted but one could feel the liveliness floating in the air. It was early, just after sunrise, and there weren’t many people around. Maybe this was the reason for the vitality of the morning – all life seems to have awoken from the night’s sleep and was yet to be sucked away by the countless people about.

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Мухата Стирка имаше обикновен живот, също както всички останали мухи. Сутрин ставаше, отъркваше предните си крака във фасетъчните очи, а задните – в задфасетъчните отверстия, които бе дочувала другите да наричат „УШИ“, а средните – в задницата си. Continue reading Единадесет