Смешно-несмешно
Четеш си кротко Born a Crime на Trevor Noah, кискаш се под мустак, разбира се, от време на време омфгираш как животът в апартейден ЮАР е хем много различен от всичко познато, хем някак доста приличащ с абсурдността си на някогашните наши соц реалии… и стигаш до:
To this day I hate secondhand cars. Almost everything that’s ever gone wrong in my life I can trace back to a secondhand car. Secondhand cars made me get detention for being late for school. Secondhand cars left us hitchhiking on the side of the freeway. A secondhand car was also the reason my mom got married. If it hadn’t been for the Volkswagen that didn’t work, we never would have looked for the mechanic who became the husband who became the stepfather who became the man who tortured us for years and put a bullet in the back of my mother’s head—I’ll take the new car with the warranty every time.
… където усмивката ти замръзва на устните, оставяш рийдъра настрана и някак не ти се чете вече. И не ти е смешно.
