great lawn. Zasrywana by dogs in the middle sand. In the background gray beater welded steel supports for large slabs, which were built housing estate. On the right side of the metal warped little table on the carpet. In many blanched lime brick a mess, with holes as the barrel of a gun. No fucking Żoliborz.
In the third row of the street, the store with alcohol and tobacco kiosk. Few had a magnificent view of the family of the window. But it looked just like my backyard. Estate, which is called a quarter-century of communist Poland. Until today. This place is more effective than furnace annealing steel.
I like the discussion of backyards, where we grew up. Just as President Jaroslaw I think it's much, if not all, speaks of the man. For me, the boys from the "better backyards, not to say "Better the court", do not know life. Their nose does not contaminate the outside of the skirt we wychynięciem.
Someone who grew up in cotton wool should avoid open spaces. Particularly social. Due to the good of the community. Now, however, already too late to lament. Is to believe that Jaroslaw Kaczynski is like wine - the older, the more digestible.
This text is an expression of my personal views, do not identify with the editorial line or the TVN 24
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