About the book: 2010 / Another flâneur, but of a different class of beings, clearly not a proletarian, but with all his appearance trying to pass for one, walked along the opposite sidewalk and turned into other courtyards. Exaggeratedly carefree, excessively persistently whistling the tune that stuck in his ears. Which Georgy just heard the accordionist playing at the station. What, you were also coming from the station? Follow me?