As in the cool, but not yet cooled water, I plunge into the memories of the last century. In the early 60s, when the TV and all the comforts in the house were a rarity, in the evenings the people did not sit by the holes, but went to bathe and relax on Hopper. It was an inexhaustible stream, whole families. They ate, drank, played volleyball and fished – right under the feet of the swimmers. Someone will not believe, but it was so!
These nostalgic images surfaced in my memory due to the fact that I decided to stroll through the places of the already distant past with the new Black Strass II blechhol. And I learned these places with difficulty: the shores were overgrown with shrubs and weeds, the beaches were overloaded with silt, the people — no one, everyone apparently clung to the zombies and gadgets.
I sat on the bridge, barely caught a few fishes of my childhood, was pleased with the lightness and slimness of Stratos, but the feeling of bitterness did not leave me. Yes, instead of wooden barley, I caught up-to-date tackle, but the rapid progress revealed the opposite side of the coin: the sluggish bite on the once fishing river, and the lack of children's voices on the bank of the handsome Hopper.