The higher we climb up the steps of our years, the more far-sighted we become, and the broader space our wide gaze covers. In return, individual details become smaller, less clear, and no longer distinguishable. You need to wear glasses.
But there are people whose eyes do not grow dim with time, and who see the past without any lenses, keeping in memory a multitude of names, titles, facts, dates. This ability struck the author of this book: his colleague Yevgeny Zaidsman. Over many evenings, over cups of coffee or mugs of beer, he would tell him about himself.
It turned out that not only a criminal investigator and a foreign intelligence resident can boast unusual events from their life. At the turning points of fate, ordinary mortals are also thrown into sharp turns and zigzags; their life path is slowed by difficult climbs and dangerous gaps.
You just need to look closely, remember, understand—and then tell about the years that have passed.
And think why, walking on foot through the striped zebra of life’s difficulties, a person did not trade it for a chessboard, did not move from pawns to officers, did not swim as a rook, did not go on horseback.