As a regular teenager, you had to ride minibuses and buses to get to the right place. Most often, the buses at your stop were empty and you quickly sat down. But having arrived at any other stop, there were already people up to your neck

Another start to your day, a packed minibus, drunk men somewhere in the crowd, grandmothers gossiping about everything and of course dissatisfied women. You sat quietly, listening to music until you noticed out of the corner of your eye a figure hanging over you. It was a man, about 40 years old. Showing respect, you jumped up from your seat, walking away. “Sit down.” You whisper quietly. The man seemed to freeze, he looked at you with big eyes. “Girl, do I really look that old?” He asks.