Alexander Makarov. My personal drama (№ 379210)

To live. How many in this word, and only a few truly live. Sometimes it seems to me that around some mannequins. They sleep, go to work, throw yourself in food and alcohol, travel in cars and in crowded buses, looking at me through the dirty glass empty eyes. Thousands of people pass by, and I stand in the street and see before them only the shade, woven from indifference.