Memories with vans In the 90s, twenty-odd people from the western province would enter the city in a van.
It will take three or four days. Put the cassette with the songs of Chuluunkhu, Byambajav and Enkhzul in it until it fades. The people sitting in the front seats will freeze to death as soon as they open the window.
That part will be called Antractide. The van has a real atmosphere. Take the car seat and load halfway. There is nothing that is not pureed, such as lamb ribs, curd tips, and concrete lids.
When you press your head to the ceiling and lock it, you won’t jump on the dirt road. Well, if you smell, your nose will no longer feel anything. The prices of sweat, water, oil, gas, white rice, gasoline, dirt, unwashed mouth, cigarettes, and cigars are completely hidden.
It is gray, which I think is a van. We pile our feet in the middle. Every 30 minutes, the person with the lowest leg is taken out and rested. He digs to get his numb leg out.
Sometimes, by mistake, they draw a person’s leg and stick it on. Arhangai stopped outside the canteen to eat. In the dark, people dragged their feet out and got down.
Like the monkeys in the book of anatomy, the herring-legged things just come down, rub their legs, rub them, grind them, and then enter the a.m. One of our hands can’t find it after digging. It’s as if the knee has gone out of control just to pull the leg.
My dogs are digging my feet again and again. This is the person who was behind him. Don’t you forget that you bent your legs so as not to pile them in the middle?
I woke up suddenly while I was sleeping, and thought that I had lost my leg. I pulled out the five biton and thought it was my leg…
I’m still dying to see a van, haha.