I watched the precipitation sitting on the tiny balcony of my house, irrespective of this, when a moonlit night was mushing outside. The minutes had begun to change, but I did not feel cold from the sadness. With each snowflake, hopelessness was raining and covering the earth as a huge layer. What will I be in the future? I was not a graduate of any school, there was a lack of physics and beauty that would have a rich husband, or even two. The man I loved did not like me, so it was impossible in a happy marriage. According to these things, I could be a woman, a toothless whore or a street man who was beating my husband. Any desperate case. Actually, if I could live with my home-geared relatives, I would at least be a cousin of women if I could find the money to go. The state is not empty, so hope is not empty, and we have become a shit country when we say inflation, new power and coup attempt. I think about whether my love life is worse or my country. I did not have a love life, I actually loved someone I did not love as an obsessive person and I am not very beautiful. She did not like it anymore, she was good, she broke and whipped me whatever. I have made a virtual sex with men for a while and earned a little money. My daily meals were enough for the police to learn and forbid so I ended my story of mini prostitution. I live with my parents, my elderly grandmother, my parents and my cats. Even if the house does not eat every day, even if the house is not clean every day, I am happy. While I was thinking about these things, the snow was slowly falling down and I was freezing and falling asleep. I woke up with my mother trying to get me some hot soup. When I opened my eyes I was in the saloon and red blanket. When I looked at my hands and saw that it was bloody and ice, it was all my body. I hardly drank the soup and went to sleep again.