When I started to calculate the milk yield of JZD cows for children, I saw her. She sat down on the other side of the aisle. Comment by Štěpán Cháb


Photo: Pixabay

The description: The milk production of our cattle is tearing up, at least I hope, the plans of the five-year plan

I would like to continue describing the odyssey to learn more about Hollywood production in our small and beautiful promontory of Šluknov. Yesterday I described how my family and I got on the train and left. I didn’t go any further, unfortunately. Maybe we’ll play today, but I don’t know. I met a girl on the train. Young woman. She completely overwhelmed my thoughts. Poor thing, she doesn’t even know.

She was sitting in the aisle away from me, in my line of sight. She was veiled as a skinhead in the hood in the 1990s. I noticed her after two kilometers on the road, when we paid the fishing guide seventy crowns for two gros and two demi. I showed the children a unique phenomenon of our landscape. A little brave with sheep standing by the fence watching the train pass by the real sheep. Nothing strange. Sheep. But a few hundred meters from the chewing pig, a massive building from the Jednotné era zemědělská družstvo climbs into the landscape. Even with ruminants. Again, leveled at the fence, they lazily watched the train rumble toward Hollywood culture. The children enjoyed the performance of the pets. We’ve been through this so many times. The sight of sheep and cows excited them for the first time; we’re so excited, that’s the question).

But just as I started calculating the milk yield of the JZD cows, which were already starting to devour the horizon, and the kids started rolling their eyes as the lecture returned, I noticed the girl. She sat astride a man at a fashion show, a menacing hood in her eyes, a smart phone in her hand. And she ran her thumb over the touch screen. Incredible speed. And because I had a vision of what his thumb was chasing so intently across the screen, I lectured with fascination on cow milking and watched with awe as the younger generation swarmed incarnated. by the young lady with the hood and her thumb.

It was strange. I wouldn’t be surprised, and the young lady would lose my attention after a while if she hunted anacondas in a mobile game, but she didn’t, she socialized with her surroundings. She communicated using smileys. The photographs and the immense speed with which the young girl manipulated them were an integral part of her work. I assume they were pictures of his Facebook friends. The progress of his work was numb but fascinating. She opened the photo, inserted a smiley, closed the photo, opened another photo, gave another smiley, closed the photo. And this at the speed of the Stamping World Championship. Once such a quick employee with a stamp jumped on me on YouTube. Similarly, the young woman recorded photos of Facebook friends.

She couldn’t even look properly at the photos, thus sharing her virtual friends’ moments, just mind-numbing toiling with their octopuses and maybe even obligatory socializing. And that speed was amazing. Often I couldn’t see what was in the photo either. Every three to five minutes, the young woman stopped working, locked the screen and looked out the window. She looked at the landscape for a moment, no more than half a minute. Then her hand with the phone still shook, she rolled her eyes at him, animated the screen, and the whole cycle started again. Her hand didn’t shake because she had received a text message telling someone something important somewhere and the phone alerted her. Just an unconscious tic that made the young woman return her attention to the phone. And again, as a clerk, she began to open photos and give them smileys.

During the trip, which lasted almost three quarters of an hour, the young woman took a photo five times with a very wide smile or a swollen mouth and sent the photo to a virtual space. Where, as I imagine, hundreds of his virtual friends are sitting somewhere on the train hunched over their phones, like life officials, they click pictures of their virtual friends, give them smileys for their give a little lucky hormone so that their friends give them a smiling face, your attention. And they do it mainly to get their virtual friends to give them a smiley back, because they need it, the number of that cynical smiley under the photo with a fake smile and feigned zest for life, which only revolves around running to the number of smileys under photos full of joy of despair.

I saw the young woman’s face in her faint half-minute as she stared out the window, a silent sucker of her life in her hand for this moment. She swayed in the reflection of the window. She didn’t look happy, she didn’t look calm. When she was alone, not looking for a smiling face in the landscape, she might have looked desperate. But maybe I guessed that in my wild fantasy, because her hand was shaking for a moment, she revived him and took a picture where she looked like she was having the best party of her life. Maybe yes, I know. I’m just a jerk who basically refuses to own a smartphone and I only have the stupid one where you can’t make smileys. And where when I receive an SMS with smileys, only strange squares appear in the message. I’m so happy for these squares. Now yes.

Unfortunately, I didn’t even get off that damn train.

So hopefully it will work tomorrow.

Entered by: Štěpán Cháb

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