Grey grey holiday.

People with florish baloons at the grey streets. Little brother and sister sell it in front of the trade centre with all good intentions to earn pocket money. And they had done it during twenty minutes. Roads, cars and windows of trolley-buses are in filth of damp ground. There is much less snow and much more puddles but no grass. Is it spring?

The trade center is full of people with furious eyes and bags in hand. Even the book store is crowded. Touching textbooks for english, textbooks for law and philosophy. And no purchases as usual. It is hard to broke the habit of strong economy even with sufficient money. Say no to casual purchases ever.

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The vague stomachache and head pressure make the grimace of the face angry and irritated. Being out of home doesn’t mean feeling better. Noise and boredom of shop windows and unfamiliar crowds.

Grey grey holiday.

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