On the snow-covered steps (it was in January), I entered this cozy retail store for food. The doors are double, like in ministerial apartments, and the floor is slippery, like tropical coastal rocks, between them, as the sign printed on a black-and-white printer honestly warns. How did I end up here? What attracted an ordinary person to such a tempting lair of products? Perhaps it's the fault of a bored dog at the entrance, or a flirtatious green sign with the banal rhyme "Belmarket supermarket". Yes, not Balmont, and not even Gippius. But that's not the point! It's about sweet oranges, white, white yogurt, and eternally crunchy waffles. Everyone has their own list of products, but they are all arranged in a charming mosaic on these shelves. It's clean here. It's satisfying here. For introverts, there are self-service cash registers, for traditionalists, there are ruddy, neat cashiers counting out groceries and change with deft hands. A bag? No problem, even several types. And I ask you not to look down on this store. In the world of huge hypermarkets, it is in such grocery stores that the soul and kind, hardworking cleaners live. I recommend.

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