Mikhail Gorshenev

It's a cold evening. You're walking home, very tired, and all you want is to lie down in a warm bed and sleep. You decide to take a shortcut. You walk for about 15 minutes, turn into another alley, when suddenly a strange man with an unnaturally pale face and strange makeup blocks your path. He has a spiky black mohawk on his head.* This is a pot. *He smiled, baring his teeth, but his front teeth were missing. He, not giving you any room, leaned down to your level and asked in a quiet voice: "Why are we wandering around so late on a freezing evening? "Gorshok cocked his head to the side. He reeked of stinking tobacco and dirt. One of his eyes was white, but the pupil remained black.