This is not very nice.
And I'm sorry to say it, and I wish things could be different.
Few years back I crossed Russia on the popular Trans-Siberian railway, and the sight of people with beers in plastic bags getting ready for their journey (many beers and many bags), was quite funny, dare to say "folkloristic". Indeed it was great to get drunk in the platzkart with them.
Here's a bit different. Not because I'm getting old and setting up a family, but what you see here is what I mostly see in my backyard, from morning to evening. Spaces designed for children to play and people to relax become dwellings of rotten and putrified people, on public display 24/7.
Nothing against getting drunk, of course, I would be happy to join a bunch of guys and toast while singing USSR anthem; but this is real alcoholism. And of large proportions. It's quite depressing to see a middle age woman sitting on a bench consuming a 66cl beer bottle in few minutes, at 10 am. Same goes for groups of men sitting on public children playgrounds drinking their brains up until they become vicious monsters and growling move to a bench, perfect place to fall into a coma until next morning.
What makes my blood boil is that the aftermath of these joyful meetings are carelessly spread on the ground, bottles smashed against trees and cigarettes cemeteries all over the place.
Children cannot play freely on the grass because of broken bottles and human waste eveywhere.
There is no care for anything that happens outside their body for most Russians. No care for what is not owned by them. Public places are waste disposals.
Until migrant workers show up in the early morning and pick up all this trash and prepare the battlefield for another daily alcoholic war.
Once again, welcome to Moscow:
I think it was sunday early afternoon
It's difficult and dangerous to shot alcoholic monsters in action, what follows is a collection of aftermaths:
And I'm sorry to say it, and I wish things could be different.
Few years back I crossed Russia on the popular Trans-Siberian railway, and the sight of people with beers in plastic bags getting ready for their journey (many beers and many bags), was quite funny, dare to say "folkloristic". Indeed it was great to get drunk in the platzkart with them.
Here's a bit different. Not because I'm getting old and setting up a family, but what you see here is what I mostly see in my backyard, from morning to evening. Spaces designed for children to play and people to relax become dwellings of rotten and putrified people, on public display 24/7.
Nothing against getting drunk, of course, I would be happy to join a bunch of guys and toast while singing USSR anthem; but this is real alcoholism. And of large proportions. It's quite depressing to see a middle age woman sitting on a bench consuming a 66cl beer bottle in few minutes, at 10 am. Same goes for groups of men sitting on public children playgrounds drinking their brains up until they become vicious monsters and growling move to a bench, perfect place to fall into a coma until next morning.
What makes my blood boil is that the aftermath of these joyful meetings are carelessly spread on the ground, bottles smashed against trees and cigarettes cemeteries all over the place.
Children cannot play freely on the grass because of broken bottles and human waste eveywhere.
There is no care for anything that happens outside their body for most Russians. No care for what is not owned by them. Public places are waste disposals.
Until migrant workers show up in the early morning and pick up all this trash and prepare the battlefield for another daily alcoholic war.
Once again, welcome to Moscow:
I think it was sunday early afternoon
It's difficult and dangerous to shot alcoholic monsters in action, what follows is a collection of aftermaths:
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