The year is ninety-two. July.
A fresh scar is healing on my head, and the wind is walking around my pockets.
There are friends and work—and also problems. And how else could it be? A guy said something and a guy did it. And if the entry is a ruble, then the exit is two—right? If you’ve been smart enough to get involved with the wrong people, you’ll have to claw your way out of it just to avoid going to prison—or worse, ending up in plastic bags. Piece by piece.
And all I wanted was to earn a little extra money...