Кадр выше наш. Полное медиа с Facebook запрошено — подставим его сюда, как только приедет.
I'm behind the counter selling cleaning products that I can't even afford myself. That night I had $42 in my account. Then everything changed."** My name is Hinemoa Tahuri. I'm 29 years old. I've been working as a sales assistant for cleaning products in a supermarket for three and a half years. Shelves full of bottles, the smell of bleach and lemon. Five shifts a week. Eight hours on my feet. The pay is lousy. You know it well. I live alone. I rent a small apartment on the outskirts of Auckland — I couldn't afford anything more. After rent, bills and groceries, barely a few dollars are left. Sometimes nothing. My mum calls sometimes and asks how I'm doing. I say everything's fine. She doesn't believe me but she stays quiet. I don't want her to worry. I have a friend, Lena, from work — also a sales assistant, also counting every cent until the end of the month. Sometimes we laugh about how we're two girls with degrees selling cleaning products. If you don't laugh — you cry. That Wednes