"Yoga"? Delusion XVI
I once heard from a yoga instructor that nettles are home to mosquitoes.
And I understood this to mean that the mosquitoes in the last birth were nettles. I have built my own Theory of Evolution on this basis.
Once, I proudly shared my thoughts with society.
"Let's look at a nettle thorn. Does it look like anything?" So I began my presentation with a question.
"Of course! Like a mosquito's nose!" I answered myself.
................
Sometimes a mosquito home is just a home...
Apparently it meant that mosquitoes live in nettles.
I didn’t pay attention to my voice. That is, "how" I say. Intonation, timbre, frequency.
But one story got me thinking.
I served in the army. Two years. In the army, everything is based on violence. That is, you are forced to do everything under the threat of physical harm. It's pretty scary, constantly waiting for a blow, often for nothing, it's just that someone didn't like you. Everyone is afraid, but everyone finds a way out of this situation in a peculiar way. The most cheerful way out of the situation was found by one soldier from my platoon. Let's call this person "M". No, perhaps he deserves to be called by his full name. Oops, I forgot his name ... Okay, let's call him "Melegi".
So that's it. Melegi was rather puny ... not thin, but not very broad-shouldered. And most importantly, he was short. One of the smallest in our platoon. In connection with such a physique, his fate could have been unenviable. Soldiers beat often the weakest, who cannot stand up for themselves. Moreover, they beat their own colleagues, taking away cigarettes and food. And they are forced to work instead of themselves.
So this Melegi suddenly began to speak in a bass voice. It was funny at first. Those who knew him from the first days, including myself, remembered that his voice matched his physique ... Oops, but I don't remember what his voice was ... Most likely "none". But his new "bass" was heard by everyone!
It started with ... songs.
We arrived at the unit with a whole platoon from a training camp, where we were trained to walk quite well in formation and with a song.
And here we are in the unit. The first time we go to the dining room.
From the barracks, soldiers rushed into the street, who were trained here, in this unit.
Disordered crowd, swearing, blows of fists on the head, whistling of sergeants' belts, cigarettes in the hands of those who are stronger.
And then we leave, our platoon. We ran out into the street carefully, in a column one by one, without a crush. We ran out, quickly began to form, even ranks, strictly in height. We froze.
The rest sullenly "lined up" in an uneven crowd. As they say in the army, "How the bull pissed."
It was impressive. We were impressed.
Received the command "Step march".
And suddenly a voice rang out ... The voice of Melegi ... A voice that no one had heard before ...
And now everyone has heard!
It was a thick bass: "Sing the song!"
And we sang. And Melegi sang. He was heard best of all.
The days of the service dragged on gloomily. Soon we stopped singing songs. Learned to walk in a discordant crowd. Divided into strong and weak. We learned to take away cigarettes and food from each other.
And Melegi continued to speak in a bass ...
And here's what I'll say. They did not beat him ... At the table in the dining room, he sat in the middle, that is, closer to the food. He smoked something ... He looked good, his clothes were clean enough - that is, he was not forced to work.
But all he had to survive was his acquired bass ...
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